Feels Like Home
by greenstuff2
Summary: Four years after Season 1 and they are moving on with their lives ... until they are unexpectedly living under the same roof again ... a slightly tongue-in-cheek monologue from Molly's point of view
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is a slightly tongue in cheek Molly monologue set some four years after the end of S1 – I just wanted to write something that would make me smile … I have not abandoned Accidental and will continue to update it, I just hope that you will enjoy something a bit different. As usual whenever I write something new I am posting it with a huge degree of trepidation, so please be kind. **_

_**-OG-**_

_**If you can't be with the one you love, **_

_**love the one you're with**_

I'd already decided that it was definitely going to be the night. I'd put my best matching knickers and bra on, the new ones that didn't come from M&S, and which have now ended up on the floor somewhere and I've given myself a fake tan, something that was probably, on reflection, a tiny bit of a mistake. Alright I admit it, it was a bloody HUGE one as Julia Roberts would say so it was a good job that he was a teeny tiny bit distracted by whatever he thought he was doing down there to notice the tangerine bits, or the stripes where I'd missed. Believe me it's a bloody sight harder than it looks. But whatever I'd thought was going to happen when I'd been getting myself all tarted up and ready for this, I never expected to find myself in his bed after a nice dinner and a couple of drinks, alright to be honest I had expected to be in his bed, I'm not that bloody clueless, but I never thought I'd be wishing he'd just bloody well get on with it. Somehow this wasn't quite what I'd been expecting. I'd spent a lot of time thinking he was a bit hot, alright I admit it, that he was very hot, but now that he was groaning and purring and you know, nuzzling, all I kept thinking was that there was a god-awful stain on his bedroom ceiling and I couldn't stop wondering what it was.

It was a relief when he finally took a break from doing whatever he thought he'd been doing and began to kiss his way back up towards my mouth because it meant I could look at his face and remind myself what I was doing there with him. He looks a bit like Tom Hardy. Okay maybe not, he's got fair hair and blue eyes so he doesn't actually look anything like Tom, not when you look closely, he's not a bit like anyone really. Except he's got really nice muscles. He looks like he probably works out a fair bit and as you know I've always been a bit of a sucker for blokes with muscles. He calls himself Al, not even Alex and that should tell you something, I'm just not sure what exactly, but his name is Alexander, and I suppose I've known him for best part of a year now. But I only really _noticed_ him if you know what I mean in the last few months, after Claire's party anyway. She'd laughed and said I'd been wearing my Tequilla goggles but I knew she was just pulling my leg, because even when you haven't had a drink or three, he really is good looking. Like _really _good looking. I mean I know he's not that tall, but then neither am I, so that doesn't matter. Much. Actually I didn't think he even fancied me, well he'd never made any sort of move, and for a long time I'd been quite enjoying myself fancying him from a distance. I really wish I'd kept it that way now. Kissing him was, I don't know how to describe it exactly, I mean what can I say? It was a bit different? I had to take a deep breath and close my eyes and think about something else, because the one thing I was trying really hard not to ask myself was what the actual _fuck? _I think he might have been practising with a bath sponge. And you know, it really doesn't matter how bloody good looking someone is if he kisses you like he's plunging a blocked-up sink and you have to keep avoiding letting him put his hungry mouth anywhere near yours. Okay, he might be a bit of a crappy kisser, actually forget that, he's a _really_ crappy kisser but that is something we can most likely work on. And in the meantime I need to keep reminding myself that I'm trying to stop being quite so bloody picky, and that after the longest drought in living history, I was going to have sex. Not with my Rampant Rabbit but with a real life bloke with a pulse. Just for once I was not going to change my mind.

I was going to touch him, and wanted him to touch me, and then we were going to do everything till we were both panting and sweating and wanting more, but I was having a hard job trying not to think about him kissing like a bloody puffer fish. And I couldn't stop the picture going round and round in my head. And then, when the fittest bloke I'd met in just about forever, the bloke that was going to change things for me, moved down to my boobs again he turned out to have got less knob control than a randy fourteen-year old who's just discovered on-line porn. Fuck me. Or not as it turned out. I seem to have pissed off the gods of shagging yet again. Or Lady Luck or someone. We never even got close before he rolled off me and onto his back and said how embarrassed he was and how sorry and then asked me to just give him a bit of time to recover. Bugger said it was my fault, said it was because he found me so hot he couldn't help it.

Yeah right.

Funny enough I found it dead easy to give him time. Lots of it. And space. Lots of that as well. Watching him sit there tugging at his sad little shrivelled up half eaten walnut whip while he did his best to get it to look a little bit less like a chipolata made me start thinking about whether I really wanted to be in his bed, whether I wanted to be kissed by a puffer fish again and decided that on the whole it was probably time to give it up and go home. I was nice about it mind, never laughed or nothing, not even a smirk, just found my clothes where they were scattered all over and got dressed and then left. I didn't even wait for him to offer to see me home, don't know whether he was going to do that or not, but I just told him I'd get a taxi and said maybe next time. Nicely. Like a politician.

-OG-

"He didn't? Shu' up …" Claire was shrieking and spluttering and making a big show of shuffling her bum about and crossing her legs "I'm going to wet myself in a minute …"

"He did and stop laughing …. it's not funny … it's bleeding tragic …" I gave her what I hoped was a stern look, you know, like the stink eye I give my sisters when they piss me off "And stop telling the whole of the top of the bus will you?"

I didn't really think she was going to wet herself, hope not anyway because a wet patch would really show in those dark leggings of hers, and I'd only given her the edited highlights, so fuck knows what she'd of been like if she'd had the full Monty. The way she's falling about laughing meant I had a bit of a job controlling my own urge to fall about. Poor Al, I'm not sure how I'm ever going to able to look him in the eye again, or anywhere else for that matter.

I'd tried to get out of this outing. Had really tried hard not to sound as though I wasn't telling porkies but all my excuses about having work stuff to do had fallen on deaf ears, well she knew I was lying didn't she? And she kept telling me that I'd promised, which I had, and that she was looking forward to it, which I knew, and that she knew I really wanted to get out of going so I could lie on my sofa and eat Haagen Das. Which was true. And watch crappy tele, which was true as well, that was exactly what I wanted to do. Especially when you compare it to wanting to strengthen my core or some such bollocks, but as she kept saying, I could always do the sofa sprawl afterwards. Do you know it's an absolute bugger when your friends can see straight through you?

So now we're doing the poor man's cardio and are climbing what feels like a million steps up to this gym place where we're going to give Pilates a whirl, or rather Claire is going to use the discount voucher she got given and I'm with her as her plus one. She says she wants to join but not on her own so she's guilt-tripped me into keeping her company by going on and on about the number of times she's done something for me when she hasn't been that keen. Hadn't noticed because it's usually when the two of us check out some wine bar where we haven't been before.

But one thing I had been thinking was it was about time I did something before even the last little bits of my army fitness went down the toilet and on top of that it was getting to be a little bit of a struggle to get my jeans done up after they've been through the wash. And Pilates looked gentle, it looked like exercise for people who didn't want to get all sweaty and as if it wouldn't hurt even for someone like me, who's done as little exercise as she possibly could since leaving the army. I've spent a lot of my time instead discovering the joys of Netflix and Pringles and of not running round the parade ground in the rain and of perfecting the art of lying on the sofa balancing a glass of wine on my chest. Hence my bum getting a teeny tiny bit bigger. But I'm still bloody fit. And even if the steps up to the gym did make my legs _bloody hurt_, I'm still most likely a lot fitter than the majority of people who'll be at this class, well that's a definite if the others are anything like Claire. Judging from the colour of her face I think she might be about to have a Julius.

The place is sort of super posh and it's not a gym, apparently it's called a_ Fitness Centre_, and I'm not sure I'm the right sort of patron. But if I like doing it, well if I don't hate it, the Pilates I mean, I might possibly check out the one in the local leisure centre which I'm pretty sure will be more my cup of tea, well more than this place anyway. Although now I come to think of it, not sure there is a class there, never seen one advertised, but bound to be isn't there? Looking round I seem to be the only one not draped in LululeMon from head to bloody toe, my jogging bottoms and vest top from the market, the ones I've had for about ten years, look just the tiniest bit out of place. Even Claire is wearing a brand new top that I haven't seen before. She might have bloody warned me. But even if I was thinking of trying to do a runner I wasn't sure I could slip out without someone seeing, alright without Claire seeing, so I parked my mat in the darkest corner I could find, the one that was furthest away from the front as I could bloody well get. I totally ignored the way Claire was pulling faces and waving her arms about as she tried to get me up the front with her. I pretended I didn't know her. The torturer in pink didn't actually say what her name was when she bounced in and up the front like Tigger with her pony tail flapping, either that or I missed it because I was too busy looking round and knowing it was a mistake me being there. But I can tell you she's Australian, well she's got the accent, and she's all jolly and loud, and was very, very bouncy as she said something about getting the session under way and then got all bossy and shouty and started to clap her hands as she struggled to make herself heard above all the gossiping that was going on. Honestly it was more like a social thing than an exercise class. But when she turned round and I saw her clearly I was bloody gobsmacked. Holy fuck, I can see she's got to be at least forty-five, although actually I think she might even be close to Nan's age, but she's got the figure of an eighteen-year old, especially her bum. Bloody hell.

She made all of us people who'd chosen to park ourselves at the back move forward to stop us hiding, and none of us, including me, was brave enough to argue the toss with her. She just stood there with her hands on her hips looking dead pleased with herself when we all did as we were told. I was dead uncomfortable because my knickers seemed to have somehow got themselves stuck up my bum but they had to stay exactly where they were because being bang slap in the middle of the room meant I couldn't just hoick them out without everyone seeing.

I couldn't help getting a very bad feeling about the whole thing.

I was quite happy to let the ones like Claire and the rest of the 'up the front' people get on with trying to impress Tigger, they reminded me of being on basic when the show-offs and the keen buggers would all be jumping about with their hands in the air going _'look at me, look at me'. _Well, they weren't actually doing that of course, but that's what they meant. This was like basic but without the military yelling and bad language. And believe me I felt just as bloody clueless as when I first started that, I had no bleeding idea what I was supposed to be doing.

It was actually quite nice and restful to start off with, I can handle just lying on a yoga mat on the floor, I'd even say I was quite enjoying it, but then we're on our sides doing something with our legs that is making me want to cry. The bloody Australian torturer in pink Lycra keeps going on and on about how important it is to keep your heels together so as to make sure you're engaging your glutes, but you'd better believe me when I tell you that my glutes felt like they'd been set on fire thanks very much and I'm not entirely sure I'll ever be able to sit down again. It felt like I was being tortured, so I was starting to think I couldn't be doing it right, not that I'd got any intention of drawing attention to myself by _asking._

Then we were lying face down on our mats with our arms by our sides doing what looks like the tiniest gentle little movements you can think of while she walked round checking we were doing it right. I waited till she'd gone past before I let my arms flop down on the mat. I felt like fucking roadkill.

-OG-

"One of the other girls told me it's going to be even harder to walk tomorrow, apparently its worse the day after when you're not used to it … when you haven't been before" Claire sounded slightly dubious as if she didn't quite believe it could get any worse as without saying a word we opted to hobble onto the downstairs of the bus. There was no way I was going to climb up the stairs like we usually would. Just for once it wouldn't only be old people and drunks that were sitting downstairs.

"Better not be … I think I'm broken … I can't even nod my bloody head without it hurts and it's going to be a really long day tomorrow"

"I didn't think it was going to hurt … sorry Moll, no-one said it was a torture chamber"

"Ow … ouch" I'd nodded again, sucker for bloody punishment that's me.

"Does that hurt" I knew I was being stupid when I did it again because she'd asked, but I did and then screeched "Ouch" as Claire giggled. I was glad someone was enjoying it.

"You need to stop bloody nodding your head, don't you?"

"You need to stop asking me if it hurts then, don't you?"

"Okay …" We were now both giggling "Are we going to go again?"

"You're bloody kidding me, aren't you?"

"No … I told you … I want to join … but I'm not going on my own"

"Tell you what, ask me tomorrow ….. if I'm still alive …. Now … much more important, are we going to the chippy and back to mine?"

"Go on then …."

-OG-

"Moll … did you leave a light on earlier?"

"Nah … don't think so, don't remember it … why?"

"I thought I saw something … a light …"

"Did you? Where?" She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of my flat which looked all dark to me "Nah … can't see anything and don't make me nervous … anyway curtains are shut so you're bloody seeing things … it's all that pain getting to you …"

"Yeah, you're probably right …" She was still looking dubiously up at the outside of the block of flats where I live as I rooted around in my bag trying to find my keys, for some bloody reason I always have a bit of a panic that I've somehow managed to lose them and that I won't be able to get in "You going to see him again then?"

"See who?"

"Al … who do you think I'm talking about?"

"What … you think it'd all go a bit better if I can't move?" I stopped trying to find my keys and looked at her before we both fell about laughing.

"Yeah something like that …. do you need help getting up the steps?"

"Nah … and I am never, ever, EVER gonna see him again … not like that, I mean, I expect I'll see him, don't see how I can help it but that's all … 'n I think I can just about manage to get up the steps"

"Good cos I bloody well can't … you might have to carry me"

"What … and put my chips down? No chance .."

I was so busy laughing with her when we got up the top of the steps and I put my key in the lock that I didn't see what was right in front of me in the middle of the hallway until I almost fell over the bloody thing. I didn't expect there to be anything sitting in the middle of my floor. Then this voice from my dark and distant past came echoing out of somewhere out of sight in the dark, until the owner of the bloody Bergen that had been dumped in my hallway flicked on the light and appeared in the kitchen doorway. Larger than life and twice as tall and about as welcome as a tummy bug or a debt collector at my ancestral home. Someone I haven't seen or heard from for years, not since our last mutual fuck off conversation which has to have been, I don't know how long ago now, but at least three years, the very last person I expected to see, or wanted to see for that matter. Here, in my hallway, well maybe I should say our hallway because he still owns a bit of it even though it's my home now, not ours. I live here, he doesn't.

"Hello Molly"

"Oh fuck … what you doing here? ….. here …. more to the point, how did you get in?"

"Last time I looked this was still …. Obviously you weren't in … and I've still got my key …"

"So you just let yourself in? You could of waited outside"

He ignored me and looked at Claire and then back at me with that bloody _look_ on his face, the one I grew to hate "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Nah … wasn't going to …"

Those eyebrows shot up again as he looked at me like I was being annoying.

"If I must … this is Claire and she's just leaving"

"Am I?"

I knew her eyes were out on stalks and that her tongue was almost hanging out with curiosity, Charles was just something else I don't talk about anymore.

"Okay … I'll call you tomorrow Moll and we'll sort out whether we're going again … always supposing you're still alive …"

She was still at it looking at him with her mouth hanging wide open and then she giggled so that I wanted to slap her.

"Of course she'll still be alive … " He did that bloody annoying thing with his eyebrows and then spoke in that '_I'm being forced to tolerate an idiot_' voice that he's so bloody good at "What? You think I'm going to murder her in her bed? Oh for fuck sake …"

Oh lovely, Captain Irritable Stern-Faced Bastard has turned up after three years of being missing and manages to get it all wrong. Again. Just one more thing that I haven't missed one little bit since our marriage went to shit.

"Nah … course she doesn't think that, it was a private joke …. you wouldn't get it …"

Even though I wasn't looking at her I could feel the way Claire was looking backwards and forwards between us, first at him and then at me and then back at him and I realised no-one had said and that she hadn't got a scoobie who the actual fuck he was. As far as she knew he was just some random in army clobber who'd let himself in my flat, dumped his stuff in my hall and was now standing in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed and his hands tucked under his armpits in that _'I'm in charge'_ way he does. He's got that miserable git expression on his gob that he's so good at, the one that says he's looking at something he doesn't much like.

"Claire …..okay, Claire … this is Charles … he … umm .. he used to be my husband… we were married" I heard him mutter something under his breath and I knew what he was saying, well what the gist of it was anyway "Still are married, I s'pose, Charles is my husband"

-OG-


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and reviews for chapter one, they mean the world to me and I really hope you'll enjoy chapter two. Like the opening chapter this is still a Molly monologue so we haven't got a clue what Charles is thinking or feeling … as always special thanks to Flossy for her endless patience and support, must admit I sometimes wonder how she puts up with me!**_

_**-OG-**_

_**Knew you were Trouble**_

Claire was taking no bloody notice of the way I was pulling faces or jerking my head at the bloody door like he does, like he'd taught me. I just wanted her to go. And it was starting to look like the only way I was going to get rid was to literally open the door and shove her out with my foot. It wasn't that I wanted to be on my own with him, I didn't, but I didn't want her there either, not when it was hard enough trying to think of what to say to him without her standing there with her ears out on stalks.

Apart from "W_hat the actual fuck you doing here?"_

Bit awkward really. You could have cut the bleeding atmosphere with a knife, what with him and me both avoiding looking at one another and the deafening silence. When it got too much even for her she grinned at me as if she knew I wanted to kick her and buggered off, but that was not before time I can tell you. But then me and him were left just standing there in silence, he was looking at the floor and I for one wasn't going to look at him, or be the first to say anything either. Maybe because I got nothing to say, have I? And I wasn't going to let him catch me looking at him either. He hasn't changed much in three years, alright he looks just the same as I remember, except for a few little flecks of grey in his hair. Perhaps I should offer to sort that out for him, get him some 'Just for Men' or something?

One thing I definitely wasn't going to ask was how he's been keeping, because I don't fucking care how he's been keeping.

Every single little bit of me hurts. Last time I felt as bad as this was after a session in the drill hall with the P.T. sadist, but there's no bloody way on earth I'm going to tell him. It's hard enough trying not to go 'ouch' every time I move, I'm definitely not going to feed him with reasons to look down his nose at me for not being fit.

"Why you here Charles?" Yeah, alright, I admit it, I couldn't stand the silence anymore, could I? I just wanted him to say what it was he wanted and then go "I mean, what is it you want? Just say and then you can get back to wherever it is you've come from"

I meant that to sound like _whatever rock you've crawled out from _and I'm pleased to say that was exactly what it did sound like. Result. It definitely made that little frown of his appear between his eyes.

"Lovely …. as hospitable as ever I see, Molly …"

If he was waiting for happy smiles and a red-carpet welcome then he was going to be sadly disappointed, he was annoying the fuck out of me by just standing there not looking at me. And then when he did look at me. It didn't make a lot of difference one way or the other actually. How bloody dare he just waltz in as though he still owns the place? Well okay maybe he might still own a bit of it, alright, all of it really, but that doesn't give him the right to just barge in does it? I'm the one lives here, not him and the sooner he goes sooner I can go and lay my poor aching body on the sofa and get back to forgetting he exists.

"How have you been?" It was obvious he was making a huge effort to be civil, which was more than I was. Ever the bloody gentleman, although he really needn't have bothered "You look well"

"Fine …" There's a hell of a lot you can pack into the word 'fine' if you really try hard enough "You?" You can make that sound as if you don't give a shit as well.

"I'm good thanks …. look…."

He shook his head and then looked down at the floor again and this really bad feeling was starting to be a bit of a worry.

"Molly … It's been a while …. more than three years now and that's a ridiculously long time to let everything drift along the way we have … we do have to start to sort things out"

I'd made up my mind I wasn't going to ask, but my mouth seemed to have other ideas and asked him against my better judgement.

"Why didn't you let me know you was coming?"

He didn't bother telling me why he hadn't been in touch to warn me, he just ignored what I'd said "I want a divorce"

"Right…"

Shit. I'd sort of known what was coming when he said about sorting things out, I'm not that stupid. But fuck. He hadn't given me any warning at all, had he? He'd bloody caught me on the hop, hadn't he? And before anyone says a word, I know he's right and that it's been a long time and that it's probably time we sorted stuff, and I should've been expecting it, I had thought it was going to happen any minute when we first went to shit. It was one of the threats that we'd yelled at each other. But then time went on and it didn't happen. I'd sort of put it to the back of my mind. A bit. But he should have rung me, warned me, you know, sent a letter or an e-mail or something, because then I'd have been a bit more ready. To be honest it was a shock.

I couldn't think what the fuck to say, all I knew was that the last thing I wanted was for him to look at my face and see how I was feeling. Actually, I didn't know how I was feeling, did I? I just knew I didn't want him to see till I'd had a chance to think.

I knew it would annoy the fuck out of him, but that didn't stop me waltzing off past him into the kitchen then pretending I was looking for a pen that worked. I did it because I wanted to hide my face until I could be sure I wasn't going to look like I gave a shit.

"Okay, give it here then …" I'd found a pen I was happy with and waved it around in front of him as I did my best to sound as bloody impatient as he does sometimes "Come on then … where do you want me to sign?"

"What ..?" He sounded as if he hadn't got a scoobie what I was on about and then ran his hand over his head "What the fuck are you talking about … sign what?"

"The whatsits … divorce papers… forms … whatever it is I gotta sign for you to go and do …. whatever it is you gotta do … give 'em here and I'll sign and then you can go …"

"I wish it was that simple .."

Must admit there was a tiny smug little bit of me that was happy to see him a tad miffed, as though that wasn't quite what he'd been expecting. He ran his hands over his head again like he does when he's a bit bothered. Can't think why he would be, getting a divorce from me was what he'd just said he was there for.

"Innit?"

"No, it's not … of course it's not, it's not that easy because there are things we need to discuss .. things to be organised …"

"Well you'd know of course … I've never done it before"

I know, but couldn't resist it, not that he seemed to take any bloody notice, which got to admit made me even worse.

"Oh no, I remember now, Rebecca done it all last time, didn't she? Hope you're not expecting me to do that"

"We have to decide about this place and there's .." He ignored my little dig about Rebecca but took a deep breath as he was finding it hard to keep his cool "You will need to get a solicitor to act for you, Molly … I can help you with that if you want me to"

"Nah thanks ….. wait a minute … hang on, why do I need one? We was only together for five minutes …" I saw the way his eyebrows went up "Well, not much more than that …. don't we just have to say we made a mistake then sign something? Can't remember what it's called now, but as long as we both say it's what we want ….and you just said yourself it's been a bloody age … so why the fuck would I need a solicitor?" There was this horrible little thought started nudging away in my brain "Here, is this about you selling this place … making me homeless?"

"No, that's not what I said…" He looked at me all bloody irritated again, as if he'd been pretending to be nice for long enough and that I was back to annoying the fuck out of him by just being there, although come to think of it, he was annoying me just being there. It didn't help knowing I was skating on very thin ice. It is his bloody flat. He's got every right to sell it from under my feet if that's what he wants.

"And why are you pulling that face Molly? You look as if you're in fucking agony"

"None of your business…"

There was no way I was going to tell him that a simple exercise class had left me feeling I was about Nan's age. He could think what the hell he liked. Let him think I'd been out having rampant sex all evening if that was what he wanted although I wasn't necessarily sure I wanted him to think I'd been having it with Claire. Still, no skin off my nose what he thinks, is it?

-OG-

I thought it was pretty bloody good of me in the circumstances to offer him the spare bed for the night. Yeah, I know it's his flat, but I live in it. It felt like it was getting late and I was already fed up with talking to him, I wanted to get away and _think_, and anyway, I'm not sure I'd be able to get him to go even if I opened the door and tried to shove him out like I had Claire. He just stood there with his Bergen in his hand looking around for a bit of floor space to dump it down, and then looked at me and raised his eyebrows at the admittedly slightly messy state of the room. I mean, it's not that bad, not really, only if you compare it to what it used to be like when he lived here with me. Okay, I admit it, it's a complete fucking shambles and I had been meaning to sort it for ages, it's a tip, but I didn't know he was coming did I? And I bloody sure as hell wasn't going to ask him if he wanted to share mine, nor was I moving into this cluttered, messy little box to let him have the big bed. I don't give a flying fuck if the spare is a bit on the short side for someone as tall as him, its hardly ever been used because we bought it for when we thought Sam would be staying, so it's not much more than a kiddie bed. But that's his problem and the more uncomfortable he is the quicker he'll shove off.

"I see you haven't changed much …."

He just stood with his hands on his hips and _looked_, then tucked his hands under his armpits and looked back at me. But I live here on my own so it doesn't matter does it? I like it how it is, and if he doesn't like it, that's just bloody tough. I'm not going to say sorry about the mess.

"You can always go somewhere else you know …if you're not comfortable … I won't mind, won't be offended …"

I tried for my best innocent look, did the eyes wide open and sweetest smile thing and think I might have got it pretty spot on. He treated me to one of his best scowls.

"No, I'm sure you won't … is there any bedding on that bed …under all the …. crap?"

"Yeah … probably ….. but you know where the clean stuff is, don't you? The airing cupboard is still in the same place, haven't moved it, feel free to help yourself"

I was just making sure he knew there was no way on earth I was going to sort it for him. Hell would freeze over first.

"I'm off for a bath … get to bed early …."

I was in desperate need of not only getting away from him but getting a handful of Nurofen and a large glass of anaesthetic to wash them down. And then a bloody long soak in some Radox, always supposing I got some. Being tortured, then getting home to find him waiting for me so he can tell me he wants to get rid of me, really hasn't been my best evening ever. And I've got a bloody early start in the morning to look forward to as well. Wonderful.

"What? Oh right ….… but we are going to have to make a start on sorting things out and the sooner the better" I bit back the urge to stand to attention and salute "Now, what do you want me to do with this stuff?"

He picked up a pile of my _crap_ off the bed, which unfortunately just happened to be a heap of clothes that I haven't quite got around to ironing.

"Depends on how long you're planning on stopping … look, just stick it in a pile over there on the floor ….…" I waved my hand vaguely in the direction of the window. I knew he'd hate putting anything in a heap on the floor, but he'd have his work cut out finding anywhere else to dump it "Umm ….. just so you know, Charles, I won't be best pleased if you sell my home out from under me while I'm at work"

"What the fuck are you talking about now?" He shook his head "Do you ever listen?"

I didn't feel the need to answer that, decided it was one of them rhetorical questions that don't need an answer, anyway he never answered when I sort of asked him how long he was planning on staying, did he?

-OG-

Work was as okay as it ever is despite having to spend the whole day talking to muppets on the phone and wishing I had a Zimmer Frame every time I got up to get anything or go to the loo. Or thinking that the company should maybe have the decency to install an in-house stairlift. And I'd spent all day avoiding calls from Claire. I knew she was desperate to find out, but I definitely wasn't ready to talk to her, or anyone else for that matter, about the shit storm that had just taken over my life.

Even though I might possibly have told all my mates and family, alright everyone who knows me, that my job is brilliant and that I don't miss the army one little bit, it was a bit of a lie. It hadn't turned out anything like I'd been expecting. I was dead chuffed, couldn't wait to sack the army when I got offered it, it seemed really exciting and I had all these wonderful visions of flying off to glamorous places. I thought I'd be going all over the world escorting the rich and famous back home when they got in a bit of trouble abroad, you know, had an accident or got ill. Well that was what they told me at my interview, but being a re-pat medic hadn't been anything like that. But _Pride _meant I'd kept that to myself. Trouble was the girls who'd been there forever grabbed all the best jobs, Australia and the Caribbean and the States while I spent my life on the bleeding phone talking to the insurance people about what was covered in someone's policy, or more likely, what wasn't. And when I wasn't doing that, I'd spent so much time sorting out clearances for the Leah Jet with the people at Biggin Hill that they're very nearly my best mates now. We use the jet for when the seriously minted, or the really, really sick, get brought back instead of them travelling on one of the airlines.

Both trips I've done have been nothing like that. One was to Ibiza on Easyjet, childminding some plonker who'd fallen off a balcony and broken both his legs when he was pissed and was pretending to be on a high wire. One of his mates had dared him, stupid sod reminded me of the lads actually and he was dead bloody lucky the insurance didn't tell him to fuck off seeing as how he'd been drinking when it happened. And I'd been to Venice to collect an old boy, who'd fallen into one of the canals when he'd had a bit of a dizzy turn and his cruise ship had upped and left without him so he'd needed escorting home, just in case. At least that trip had been on British Airways and I'd had a few hours to look round Venice when I was waiting for them to discharge him from hospital, they wouldn't let him go till they were completely sure he hadn't caught anything horrible from the water. But apart from those two, I'm still waiting. And when I wasn't on the bloody phones, I was checking kit. Endlessly checking kit. A job I know a hell of a lot about. Should do, done enough of it in the army.

It wasn't until I was on the bus going home that I thought about returning Claire's calls, I was dreading getting home and the closer I got the more I was dreading it. But in the end I didn't, I knew she'd be on at me until I told her all about it, like I would if it was someone else we were talking about and not me, and I really didn't want to talk about him to anyone, not even her. None of it. I didn't want to explain about him or about him and me or try and tell anyone what had gone wrong. I just wanted to forget it all, wished I could close my eyes and then wake up and find it was a dream. A bit unlikely I know.

But at least there was no sign of him when I got in so just for a blissful few minutes I could kid myself that he'd gone and left me to get on with my own life again. Even more unlikely.

I hadn't seen him before I went to work which had suited me just fine. I'd done my _quiet as a bleeding church mouse_ bit, creeping around, not because I wanted to be nice and considerate or anything, but because I didn't want to risk him starting about it all over again when I'd got a whole day's work in front of me. I didn't actually know whether he was still asleep or had gone out for a run because the spare room door was shut, but he hadn't been around to bother me so it didn't matter, did it? I didn't know anything about anything, not where he'd just been, apart from it obviously wasn't Bath, and that it had been somewhere hot judging by the colour of him. I hadn't asked and he hadn't said.

"What the ….? Fuck … I'll kill him"

Two minutes earlier I'd been happy he was nowhere in sight, had even been crossing my fingers he might have gone for good, but soon as I opened my bedroom door all I wanted was for him to be right there in front of me. Then I could kill him. He'd obviously found plenty to do with his day, bossy bloody neat freak had actually been in my room, had been touching my stuff and tidying it away until he'd made my room exactly the way he likes to have things. Who the bloody hell had said he could do that?

He didn't say a word so I jumped out my bloody skin when I turned round and saw him leaning against the doorframe. He was just standing there watching me. But I think he could probably tell I wasn't too pleased with him because despite him having a bottle wrapped in tissue paper in his hand, he put both of them up like he was defending himself from some sort of attack. Which he might well need to do in a minute.

"What the actual_ fuck_, Charles?"

"I know, I know ….. and I knew you'd be upset and probably annoyed …"

"Really? Whatever give you that idea? Why the fuck would I be upset that you came in my room without asking when I wasn't here 'n touched my stuff … that you snooped … I mean, why the fuck would that annoy me?"

"I wasn't snooping Moll …. And I know I probably should have waited until you were here, but I had to clear up a bit before the agent comes round to value the place … otherwise he'd have a problem falling over your mess when he tried to look round, but I'm sorry you're upset"

I don't care if he is bloody sorry, so he fucking well should be, has he never heard of boundaries? Or is it only his that count? And I was spot on, wasn't I? He's invited some poxy estate agent to come round and look at this place, hasn't he?

"There you go … told you … you are gonna make me homeless …"

"Oh, for fuck sake … of course I'm not … I said I wouldn't and I meant it …. I've never lied to you, Molly, not once, so I'm not going to start now, am I? But that doesn't mean we don't need to find out how much this place is worth …." He shook his head "And it's not _me … _it's _we_ … and if _we_ decide to sell, then your share will mean you can get something nice …." He looked round the room "As good as this or probably better …. now, did you find yourself a solicitor?"

What is he talking about? Not about the solicitor, I mean, I sort of know about that, but why would I get a share? None of this is mine. And he could have evicted me any time he wanted, I know that, like I know I should be grateful that he's been keeping a roof over my head for three bloody years. He didn't have to do that. This place is his, it was already his before I met him, so he can do what he likes with it, can't it? I've just been putting it in the cupboard under the stairs and me trying to make him feel bad about selling is just me being fucking unreasonable, innit? I owe him and I know it, but doesn't mean I like it. I don't like owing anybody, but especially not him.

Shit. Looks like I might be going to have to find myself a solicitor, doesn't it? Have to Google it or something. Shit. And I've got no clue how you can tell if the ones on there are any bloody good, all I do know is that I'm not going to ask him to find one for me. I'll manage.

-OG-


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N Thank you for all your reviews and kind comments for C2, the support I get is what makes me carry on even when the self-doubt creeps in – I think it is something we all suffer from to some degree. And special thanks as usual to Flossy – my proof reader extraordinaire.**_

_**-OG-**_

_**Take it, Take Another little Piece of my Heart**_

I'd been telling myself I'll deal with it later ever since we went to shit. Me Nan always used told me that sometimes it's better not to trouble trouble till it troubles you, and that's what I thought I've been doing, but I haven't, have I? I've been putting it off, and that's never going to solve anything, it's not going to make it all go away, is it?

Not sure why I found it so much easier to talk to him while I was doing something in the kitchen but once all the polite stuff was done, you know, the _how you been_ and _where were you and_ _what was it like _and all that, I was really glad I had something else to concentrate on, even if it was only mangling a bit of Brocolli.

He's just got back from being been deployed in Kenya and there was a lot of people out there with him that I know and I really wanted to ask for all their news and the gossip, but then didn't. No matter how badly I want to know, the one thing I do know is that it's going to make me miss them all even more than I already do. And before anyone says anything, I know it's my own bloody fault that I feel left out, I'm the one who tried to move on and who shut them out, but that doesn't stop me missing them, does it? He told me that some of them had got prickly heat in unfortunate places while they were there and we shared a little laugh about it, but it was nothing like old times. We seem more like bloody strangers these days, that we're making a huge effort to be extra polite. No-one seeing us together now would guess how I used to feel whenever I was anywhere near him because it feels a bit like one of those_ what did you do on your holidays _conversations that you overhear when you're having your hair cut.

Then it was his turn. He perched his bum on the edge of the kitchen table and started asking me all about my new job and how I'm finding it and to ask whether I've settled in yet because he knows better than anyone how I run myself ragged with trying too hard to fit in when I'm new. Not that I was going to admit that there was any of that going on, not to him. Especially not to him, I just packed as much faked enthusiasm into my voice as I could bloody well manage and lied through my sodding teeth. I could hear I sounded a bit like a kiddie's tele presenter, all full of bullshit about how it was all fabulous and brilliant and wonderful and I can't think now why I did that, but maybe it was that I didn't want him feeling sorry for me for making a crap decision. I did think he might possibly see through the act. But he didn't. Or if he did, he didn't say.

And then it all went quiet. We seemed to have run out of things to talk about, well, apart from the awkward stuff that we're avoiding and I, for one, was just desperately trying not to look at him. I actually think he was feeling much the same way, not that you'd know it from the look on his face. He hasn't changed.

"How's Belinda … and Dave? …. And Nan? Is she well? And the rest of the family?"

God, I hate that bloody fixed smile he's got pasted on his face. It's the one he uses when he wants to make sure no-one can see how he's feeling, but, hey guess what? I can do that every bit as well as he can. Pasting a stupid smiling mask on your face to hide your feelings was something else he taught me when we were together.

"Yeah, they're all good thanks … yours? .. Sammie?"

Sam's not so little now of course. I never really got to know him that well, I'm not sure I'd recognise him now seeing as how we didn't get to see a whole lot of him, except he always used to look so much like his dad. I suppose he still does. Sam's mum, Rebecca, Charles' first go round the block, had been waging this bloody war over all sorts when we were together so had made everything as awkward as she bloody well could. Restricting his time with Sam had been her ammo of choice and he'd had a really shit time dealing with it, it had been really hard to watch him getting hurt but there'd been nothing I could do to help. I never want to feel that fucking useless ever again. But then as things turned out it was probably just as well Sam and I hadn't got close seeing that his dad and me didn't last.

"He's fine thanks … flourishing …. they're all fine …"

"Good … bet your mum's a bit devasted about all this …."

Okay, it probably wasn't the best idea I've ever had to try and make a joke about any of it, but I always thought Charles' mum had got tons in common with my dad. She was another one thought I was a complete waste of bloody oxygen. I'm pretty sure she threw a party when she heard we'd split, so god knows what she's planning to celebrate our divorce, probably going to hire Buckingham Palace or the Albert Hall. I overheard her once moaning to one of the other witches in her coven that I would never amount to anything, would always hold him back because I was common as muck. And she'd said how disappointed she was in her son. Nan used to call her the Duchess, had told me to take no notice of someone like her who was all fur coat and no knickers, but think that was just Nan trying to make me feel better. It had really bloody hurt at the time and even thinking about it now still makes my skin itch on the inside, but I have sort of realised that maybe not all of the mistakes were totally down to her. I know I have this need to always have people like me and that it can be a bit of a problem when I think they don't, so I might possibly have made things a tad difficult at times. Or maybe it's just I've grown up a bit now.

But for the first time in more than three years I saw that little tell-tale bite on the corner of his bottom lip, the one that always gives him away when he's doing his best not to grin. And I bloody smiled back at him, didn't I? And then watched as he remembered how much he doesn't like me anymore.

My stomach is pretty sure my throat's been cut and has begun to make all these embarrassing noises trying to remind me that I never got round to eating my cold chips and was in such a tearing hurry to get off to work that I'd only had a cuppa. And no lunch either. Even the _thought_ of walking to the sandwich place to get something had made me want to cry, so I might just possibly have got slightly carried away with the amount I'd been chopping for my stir fry. To be honest have probably done enough to feed the entire bloody street, but you know what it's like when every bit of you is yelling _more, must have more._

"What are you cooking?"

"Ummm … Vegetables?" I was about to say '_what the fuck do they look like?'_ but then remembered we were being civil and thought I'd show him what a nice person like me does by offering food to the hungry instead of flogging the roof from over someone's head. Alright, I know, it's his roof to flog, but what's that got to do with anything?

"Stir fry …" I waved the knife around over the mountain of stuff on the board "You can have some if you want …. there's plenty" Well that was a massive bleeding understatement if ever I've spouted one "I promise I won't spit in yours"

"Lovely … I didn't know you could cook Molly… that's not how I remember it …" There it was again, that same little dragging of his teeth over his lip, that same little twitch.

"Oi … I'm the nuts at it I'll have you know ….. and there are lots of things you don't know about me these days" He did that annoying thing with his bloody eyebrow again and I could see the little smirk as if he didn't quite believe me, mind you, he could probably see I was struggling to come up with something else, _anything_ else, that he didn't already know. I know there must be a bleeding ton of things but couldn't think of a single one off-hand, could I? "Got a bit fed up with eating pizza and take-away"

What the fuck was I doing explaining it to him? I don't have to do that, it's none of his business and it's definitely not important if he approves of me or not.

"Lovely …. Thanks …. it does look really good … but ….. I'm eating out tonight so I'll have to pass if you don't mind"

He grabbed the bottle of wine that was still wrapped in tissue paper from where it was sitting in the middle of the table. I hadn't really thought that he'd bought it for the two of us to share, well alright I had I suppose, but I was just bloody glad now that I hadn't gone and opened it and poured myself a glass.

"That's okay ….s'pect I'll survive..…. do my best anyway"

"I'm sure you will …. Good night Molly …"

"Night"

-OG-

I don't think he came home last night. Well I bloody know he never, not that I was listening out for him or anything, much, it was just that when I got up for work his bedroom door was still a bit open the way he'd left it when he went out. I'm pretty sure his bed hadn't been slept in either so I knew he wasn't just out running. Not that I was checking up or anything, it was just I couldn't help noticing when I walked past, alright when I looked in the door. Had to make sure everything was okay, didn't I? It was. It was all as bloody neat and tidy as his quarters in barracks, everything squared away, but at least I didn't go in to have a bit of a nosy through his stuff. Not like he did.

-OG-

My day in the fun factory wasn't too bad for a Friday, considering I had to work the start of my shift with Kelli with the_ fucking 'i'_ as she'd kept telling me over and over when I was new. Not the fucking bit, but she gets really worked up about the 'i', keeps repeating it to everyone. I hated being new, but then everyone does, don't they? The not knowing where anything is and not knowing who anyone is and what the right thing to say is, or in my case the wrong, and Kelli who is a skinny fucking nightmare was my mentor. She's also the one person I've met recently that I don't mind not liking me. I don't like her either. She'd do a lot better if she actually _ate _something sometimes instead of playing with her lettuce leaf at lunch and then making a big deal out of leaving half of it, and looking down her fucking nose whenever she catches sight of any of the rest of us topping up our blood sugar. You know, _eating._ She was bleeding horrified when she saw me actually eating chocolate, not that it's any of her business but there are times when only chocolate does it for me, not going to explain to her that it helps when I'm a bit down. I'd rather let her think I'm permanently on my period and then listen to her endless fucking lectures about supplements and exercise and eating sensibly and all the rest of the shit. Not today though. That big bar of Galaxy with my name on it is just waiting for me to be happily working downstairs in the storeroom on my own. It might be boring as fuck down there going through the equivalent of stocking and re-stocking a pile of med-Bergen's, checking and double checking that everything's there and works properly, but at least I don't have to listen to Kelli droning on about the evils of sugar. And transfats. And empty calories. And just about everything else, especially chocolate. Tell you what, she'd shitting love the 50 sausage challenge.

Even though I can check med packs in my sleep, I did manage not to keep thinking about him. Not till I was on the bus going home anyway and not even then, not really. It's Friday night innit? Friday's are all about getting dressed up and going out, going clubbing and probably drinking too much with Claire, and then if we're pissed enough, her trying to persuade me that what we want is to pick up blokes, that sort of thing. But I'm really not in the mood for any of that. The last thing I want is to run into Chipolata Man and sod's law says he's bound to show up.

By the time I put my key in the lock I didn't know whether I wanted him to be there or not, Charles I mean, not Chipolata Man, but I really did hope that the estate agent had been and done his valuing thing. Getting out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Saturday when there's no work to let some muppet have the freedom of my bedroom is not my idea of fun.

I knew Charles was home as soon as I got in. I could hear him singing along to something and had all these memories that made me want to cross my fingers that by the time I'd changed he'd have disappeared off to wherever he'd spent the night. But he hadn't, he was still singing when I went in the kitchen and saw he was playing around with that poncey coffee machine of his that's been sitting in the cupboard gathering dust since the day he left. He was trying to make it work. For some reason I never did get around to throwing it out, although can't think why not now, because I don't drink coffee and if there's ever anyone here who does, they get bleeding Nescafe and like it. Either that or they can bloody go without. Tea bag still does me.

Shit. I don't think he's got any intention of going out. His hair is definitely damp as though he's just had a shower and he's all casual in joggers and 't' shirt. And his feet are bare so I've got this horrible feeling he might be going to make me do that sorting out he keeps on about. Shit, I know it's got to be done and that I can't keep putting it off, but I really don't want to do it now, not tonight, it's Friday night, innit? On the whole I think I'd rather be out clubbing and drinking and even talking to Chipolata man if I must.

"What the … what are you wearing?"

His voice sounded like it does when he's saying one thing and thinking something else, like when he's not comfortable. But he wasn't looking at me, was he? He'd just glanced round and then turned back to carry on doing whatever it was he was doing and it seems we're back to not bothering to be nice so I repaid the compliment and ignored him completely. I just stood there and stared into the fridge and then looked through the cupboards to see if I could find anything at all I fancied eating for a snack, something that didn't require any effort.

"Molly … hey … did you hear what I said? I asked you what you're wearing?"

"Yeah, heard you …." I pretended to look down at myself and then opened my eyes as wide as I could and did my best to pack as much sarcasm into my voice as I could dredge up. I'm nowhere near as good at it as he is, but I'm getting there "Pyjamas?"

He only turned his bloody back on me again and huffed, didn't he? I know I should have thought about it a bit more when I got changed, alright a whole lot more, but I thought all that was way back in the dark ages now. A bloody long time ago anyway. But, I hadn't done it on purpose and I didn't want him to think I had. I hadn't. Really. I'd just changed into my pyjamas, and they're decent. The shorts are not the ones that show my bum or anything, and even if the top looks better with a bra under it, it's not low enough that my tits are falling out or anything.

"What's wrong with them?" I did this little shrug and waved my hand down the front of me to show him what I was talking about and to pretend I didn't know what he was talking about.

"Nothing … there's nothing's _wrong _with them Molly …. It's just … I'd prefer … it doesn't matter"

"What?"

"If you wore something else … something a bit …. Don't you have a robe or a dressing gown or something that you can put on?".

"Nah …. don't need one, do I? In case you've forgotten I live here on my own …and …"

I did a little shrug, I was trying to look like I didn't know what his problem was but I didn't like that he sounded a bit angry. I do know that this is a bit my fault, but to be fair to myself I hadn't expected him to remember any of it. But seems I'm wrong. Well I think that's what it is, but if that is what's going on, he managed to get over it pretty bloody quick and just marched out the room without even looking at me again. Sometimes it really does feel like he can't stand the sight of me.

And suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore so started looking through the bottom of my bag instead to see if the last little bit of Galaxy was still there or if I'd already eaten it. Which I had. And then Charles was back and shoving something at me.

"Here … put this on …"

"What is it?" Don't know why I said that when I could see perfectly well what it was, a 't' shirt, his 't' shirt "Why should I, what's wrong with my pyjamas?"

"Nothing …. Just … Please …. just do it …"

It was probably habit or something, but even if there was no way I was going to do what he said, and there wasn't, and in spite of that disapproving look on his face, he had said 'please' hadn't he? Why I took it I've got no clue, I should have done what he does and turned my back and bloody well marched off. But I didn't and the minute his fingers touched mine or mine touched his, not sure who touched who first, it was like I'd had this bloody electric shock. It was the first time we've touched each other in bloody years, and I don't know why, but it changed everything. The feel of his fingers as he cradled my hand gave me a knot in my stomach so that I was suddenly feeling all these feelings in places I had no bloody business to be feeling them. Things I thought I'd never feel again. There was no bloody way that any of it should be happening, but it was. Just touching his hand was making it hard for me to breathe properly, I seemed to suddenly have far too much breath and it was sort of hitching in my throat in a way that just doesn't happen to me anymore. I know it's got a lot to do with all of this making me feel a bit weird. Everything. Him. Him being here, me thinking about the past. Thinking a lot. Too much. About when I was happy before it all went wrong and I don't want to think about any of it. We've been ancient bloody history for years so why is it impossibly hard to do the simple thing and let go of his hand? And why does it seem just as hard for him to let go, and why is there this little look of something in his eyes when the two of us are just standing there with our hands touching and looking at one another? I didn't dream it and it wasn't wishful thinking, I know it wasn't.

Then suddenly he shoved my hand away like it was burning him before turning back to fiddle around with that fucking coffee machine again. He left me just standing there looking at him with his 't' shirt all crumpled up in my hand and feeling all these churned up feelings in my stomach. I was all sort of off balance and I bloody hate that feeling. He didn't say anything, but then I didn't say anything either. Well, didn't have a clue _what_ to say, did I? I'm not sure he did either because after a couple of minutes he just walked out without even looking at me again.

-OG-

I don't know what he did with himself after that, but he certainly didn't come back for a little chat with me about sorting stuff or anything, never came to watch tele or get something to eat or drink either, so think he must have been reading or on his lap-top or phone or something. In his room. On his own. He didn't go out, I know that.

-OG-

"Yeah, yeah, alright, alright …. I'm coming … for fuck sake …. COMING…"

I'd made the mistake of jumping out of bed too quick and had to stand still and wait for the head rush to go away, I was on the edge of queasy. On reflection that last glass of Vodka might have been a small error of judgement even though it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but I'd been lying on the sofa feeling sorry for myself and now I just wish whoever it was ringing the fucking doorbell would kindly go away. Either Charles isn't in or he's refusing to answer because he's punishing me for sleeping in till dawn on a Saturday.

Actually, I'd had this sudden thought that it might be him, that unlikely as it sounds, Mr Always Perfectly Fucking Organised had gone out for a run and forgotten his key or lost it or something and couldn't get back in. Tempting as it might be, I couldn't just leave him sitting on the doorstep for a couple of hours, could I? And anyway, knowing him he'd just keep his finger on the bell till I did get up and let him in.

It's not Charles.

It's a stranger. Some girl that looks a lot older than me, about Charles' age I would think, a pretty girl with lots of long red shiny hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain, and with these blue eyes that are all made up, I mean, she's all glossy looking. At this time of the bloody day? On a Saturday. And she's pretty, did I say that already? And bleeding tall. She's probably miles taller than me even without the spike heels she's got on and there's this look on her face that says she's waiting for something, got no idea what.

I've got absolutely no bloody clue who she is.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Charles …"


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thank you for the reviews and kind comments. Real life is a bit full on at the moment, but have been beavering away at this at the same time as trying to get the update for Accidental ready to post. Hopefully in the next few days. **_

_**Okay, as far as what went wrong … it will all become clear – I promise – and I'm sorry if that is a bit of a tease, but this is still Molly's side of the story …and is a bit tongue in cheek - Thanks as usual to Flossy for her invaluable support when I'm having an acute attack of the terrible disease known as writer's wobblies !**_

_**-OG-**_

_**Can Anybody find me somebody to Love?**_

She sounds like him, another one got that marble in her gob thing going on, although have to say she seems a bit irritated. Just not half as irritated as I am.

"Sorry, he's not here … was _we _expecting you?"

I did this thing of pretending to check what time it was though I don't have to do that to know it's ridiculously bloody early for a Saturday. I know there's been plenty of times in the past when I've already been out for a 10k run by this time on a Saturday but I've given all that up. But I'm willing to bet that she never has, she doesn't look like army to me.

I admit I just called me and him '_we'_ to make a bloody point, which was probably a total waste of effort on my part, I'm not sure she even noticed. Maybe I was bit too subtle. Reality is Charles and me stopped being a couple ages back, so don't think why I did that now.

"Is Charles still out for his run?"

Here we go again, that's the second time she's done that, she called him _Charles_ and never mind about where _he_ is, I'm still waiting for her to tell me just who the fuck she is. And what she's doing here at this time, I mean who the fuck makes house call at this time of the day at the weekend? Apart from her wanting to make sure I know she knows him. And if she does know him, and alright looks like maybe she does, then she knows that come hell or high water he's going to be out pounding the bloody streets at this time. Even if it's pissing down. And if she knows that, then what is the point of her coming here looking for him at this time?

"Yeah course ….. probably won't be back for a good while yet …."

I made another big show of checking what the time was which quite frankly seemed wasted on her. She still looks far too bloody pleased with herself.

"I'm Molly by the way, Charles' _wife_ … don't think we've met, have we?"

I haven't called myself that for bloody years. I even stopped calling myself Molly James and went back to Dawes, but somehow it just came out of my mouth like it was still true. I might have only known her about two minutes, but I already know I don't like her. Funny how sometimes it doesn't matter how hard someone works at getting on your good side you know right from the off that they're never going to be your friend. Mind you, don't think she's exactly breaking her neck to get on my good side, is she? Okay, I admit it, I said it to piss her off. To wipe that smirk off her face.

"Listen, you can leave a message for him if you want … I'll make sure he gets it when he gets back …. save you hanging about, won't it?"

I know, nice of me I thought.

And then I sort of moved my arm up a bit and I don't know what she thought I was doing it for, I think she maybe thought I wanted to shake her hand but then when she stuck hers out I pretended not to notice and moved mine away. The only bit of her I want to shake is her throat. It was a bit rude of me I know, alright it was really bloody incredibly fucking rude as well as being very fucking childish but sorry to say it was worth it just to see the look on her face. I don't know why, but I'm getting a really bad feeling about her.

"I must say it's very nice to finally meet you Molly …..I've heard such a lot about you … I'm Amber by the way …. I expect he's told you all about me …?"

"Sorry?"

"I'm Amber … Charles' fiancée?"

"Oh …"

What? The? Fuck? She's his _what_? I don't think so. For a start he's still married to me, I mean you can't ask someone to marry you, get engaged to someone when you're still married to someone else, can you?

Shit, what is it they say about someone having the last laugh?

It's all very nice that she's heard a lot about me but I don't give a rat's bum what she thinks she knows or doesn't, it's still got to be a bloody sight more than I know about her. I've never heard of her. And you know what, I think she knows that only too well. There's a definite look on her face, a bit of a smirk in that stupid plastic smile of hers of just how much she's enjoying herself and something tells me exactly where he was when he didn't come home.

I bloody hate how stupid that makes me feel. Not so much about him being with her, I mean obviously I'm not exactly delirious about it, but I thought he'd got more taste than this skinny bloody stick insect with the dyed hair and the fake smile.

But really, it's the _not knowing_. Fuck. Everything I thought, well, seems I couldn't have got that more wrong. Again. I feel like such a muppet. Again. When am I going to fucking learn?

He'd still been sulking in his room or whatever he'd been doing when I'd swapped my pyjamas for his shirt after I'd been lying on the sofa having the odd glass. I don't know why I did that now, but then I'd slept in the bloody thing, probably had a lot to do with it making me feel all warm and comfortable and because it smelled nice. It had been all sort of _familiar _and then when I'd woken up on the sofa, I'd been too sleepy, or maybe too ratted, to bother getting changed again.

Okay, honestly? I'd liked the feel of wearing it because it reminded me of being.

But judging from the look on her face, I don't think she's exactly happy about it. Doesn't seem like she's keen on me being in one of his shirts when I've obviously just got out of bed. I'm not entirely sure what it's got to do with her, well alright maybe I can work that one out, but I'm decent aren't I? And you know what, I'm not sure I'm quite as happy about wearing it now as I was before she showed up.

Amber, if that's her real bloody name and not some stupid nickname from the ginger hair, alright it's red but I reckon it's dyed that colour, seemed to think she didn't need to wait for an invite to come in, she just _barged_ past me and I couldn't do anything to stop her. I'd have been quite happy to leave her outside to wait but then couldn't slam the bleeding door in her face or throat punch her or anything, could I? Well I could, but not without making it bloody obvious how I feel, and I'm not even sure why I feel the way I do. I mean, it's not like I still love him or that I thought there was a chance we could get back together or anything is there? But there's no way I'm giving her the satisfaction of knowing how pissed I am about the whole thing, with her, with him, with all of it really. It's just he lied to me. After all his promises of never having told me a lie, not once, not ever, he has, he's bloody well lied to me.

I was happy with my life the way it was. I liked it, mostly. No-one telling me what to do or how to do it or when, no-one bossing me about, no-one making me feel stupid or telling me to act my age or grow up or anything and yeah alright it wasn't perfect, I wasn't exactly paying my way, but then I've always said I don't do perfect. And then he turns up out the blue after three years of not even a Christmas card or a fucking phone call and never mind all the bullshit about sorting stuff out, or me being able to get somewhere of my own once he gets rid of this place, he wants a divorce so that he can marry her. The skinny bloody beanpole stick insect with red hair and a smug smirk. The beanpole dressed in black from head to fucking toe as if it's sodding Halloween or something, the one that's just barged in here as though she's got every bloody right. She's the reason he wants to be rid of me. He wants to be with her, he's sleeping with her. He's going to marry her, third time round the block for him so maybe he thinks it's going to be third time lucky. Doubt it. And he never said a fucking word. And that's lying innit?

I know it hasn't really got anything to do with me and that I shouldn't give a rat's bum after all this time and all the rest of it, I know I've got no right, but I want to kill him.

-OG-

I didn't know what to say to her about where she could wait, there was no way she was getting an invite to wait in the kitchen with me because I was dying for a cuppa and I definitely wasn't going to make her one. And my sitting room is still my space. He hasn't set foot in there since he's been back, well, not when I've been home to notice anyway, and it's got my stuff all over everywhere, my pyjamas are still on the floor somewhere. There's no way I want her touching anything of mine, don't even want her parking her skinny backside on my sofa, and I'm not going to invite her to wait in the spare room where he's been sleeping either, although it would serve him bloody right if there are things in there he doesn't want her to see. She can wait in the fucking hall like she's waiting for a bus.

It was a bit of a shame that she didn't have to wait a lot longer, well not nearly as long as I'd have liked, but it would have been very hard to miss the moment he got back because soon as she saw him they were at it arguing. I couldn't hear what he was saying to her, could just about hear his voice because it was obvious he was keeping the volume down a bit which was more than she was. She wasn't best pleased about something, but I'd shut the kitchen door when I went in to make my tea, didn't want her following me, did I? It meant I couldn't hear exactly what it was she was yelling, but I think I heard my name mentioned, a lot, seems it might have something to do with her not being very happy about me wearing his stuff and looking like I've just got out of bed. Tough, if she's going to turn up at someone's door in the middle of the fucking night, she ought to expect them to still be in bed.

Just to let them know I wasn't totally thrilled at having to stand in the kitchen with the door shut while I waited out for them to finish their domestic, and to make the point that I could _hear _them_, _I did my best to drown them out by turning the radio up as loud as I could get it to go. The music was bleeding deafening, but I could still hear her shrill voice going on and on even if I couldn't hear what she was actually shrieking, and I couldn't hear him at all.

"Molly … for fuck sake … MOLLY …?"

"What?"

I hadn't heard him come in because the music was probably loud enough to make my ears bleed.

"Can you turn that down please … a bit …. Please … Now ….?"

"What? Sorry can't hear you"

"Oh, for fuck sake … turn that fucking racket down … or better still …"

He didn't laugh even though I was giggling a bit when I said I couldn't hear him, bit of nerves really, but he really does seem to have lost his sense of humour somewhere, still that's okay, it wasn't funny. But then neither is any of this shit. He just leaned across and irritably swiped at the button and killed the noise. The silence made my ears ring.

"Oi … do you mind? I was listening to that .."

"No. You. Weren't …. But the neighbours and half the fucking street were…"

He was standing right in front of me with his hands on his hips, sort of had me trapped against the draining board and was almost close enough to be touching me as he slowly shook his head like he despaired of me. And then he moved back slightly and pulled the front of his 't' shirt up to wipe away some of the sweat that was running down his face and dripping off his chin. The way he was standing in front of me like that meant I couldn't help looking, and couldn't help noticing he's still got that same bloody flat stomach, not a bloody ounce of fat on him anywhere, and if anything, he looks like he might have even lost a bit of weight in the last couple of years. I can still see his scar, though. I don't know why I should be surprised, scars like his one never just disappear do they? Not completely, they just fade till they're nothing like they used to be. And his hardly shows at all now it's a silvery sort of line so I reckon if you didn't know it was there you wouldn't even notice it. It's nothing like the livid pink angry looking scar it was when I used to run my fingers over it and make him shiver.

Not that I chose to be that close, or to look at him, or remember, but it was bloody impossible to know where else I could look when he was standing right in front of me like that. One thing hasn't changed is how much he sweats and how it makes his hair all dark and curly and how his shirt has all these same great big wet patches down the front. It's bringing back a shed load of memories of things I could swear I'd forgotten, but if I close my eyes I can still remember the smell of him when he's been out for his run and actually that hasn't changed at all, I can still smell the same smell of fresh sweat and warm skin mixed with soap. It's strange innit the things you remember?

Then there we were just standing there in silence looking at one another and he trapped the corner of his bottom lip with his teeth and then shook his head before he began to back away from me.

"Please … can you do me one small favour Molly? Just for once in your life can you try really hard to behave like the bloody adult you are …?"

"What?"

"You heard me"

"Fuck off"

That stopped me in my tracks didn't it? Especially when he just turned and walked out but not before he gave me one of his best scowling frowny glares over his shoulder so that I was left leaning against the sink seething with bloody anger. Who the fuck did he think he was? Where did he get off talking to me like that? I could feel there was smoke coming out my ears, but you know, there was no bloody way I was going after him to yell at him and put him straight. Got a good mind to take my cuppa and go in the sitting room and maybe put the tele on but to do that, I'd have to walk past them and not doing that, am I?

It's finally gone all quiet so he's obviously being all patient and calm and lovely with the woman he's going to marry after being all shouty and impatient and bloody shitty to the childish one he's already married to, the one he's getting rid of. Me. Knowing him, he's probably kissing her to shut her up, he's bloody good at that.

One thing I do know, I am not going to show him I give a single shit about any of this. About what he said to me, about her, about them being together, about selling this place, and most of all about him lying to me, none of it. l am not going to let him think for one single, solitary minute that I care. That I'm jealous.

I hope they'll be very happy together.

-OG-

There was no cereal so I was having to make do with toast and drinking even more bloody tea despite my back teeth floating in it, when I finally heard the front door slam, hopefully with her on the other side of it. I just stood there and waited. I expected him to come in and tell me himself what the fuck is going on, but instead I heard the shower start running so it seems he's not going to do anything of the sort. I've got to admit I was bloody tempted to turn the hot water tap on so he'd get a nice burst of freezing cold water on his head. A cold shower would do him good.

But there's no way I'm hanging around all day waiting to hear whatever lies he's going to tell me next, I don't give a shit about _sorting things out_, and I don't fucking care what the estate agent has got to say about what this place is worth, I'm sure I'll find out sooner or later. And more than anything else I am not interested in hearing all about bloody Amber.

I'm going shopping instead.

I'm not going for food, although I do need some, but for a bit of what me Nan calls retail therapy, I'm going up west and hitting the shops. But I'm going to ring Claire first and tell her I've changed my mind about this party tonight, the one she's been banging on about while I've been telling her over and over that I'm definitely not up for it. But I'm allowed to change my mind, aren't I? I was giving it a miss because Al will be there, not that I'd said that to Claire, not in so many words anyway, but she'll probably have guessed. I'm going to buy myself something new and lovely to wear and get new shoes as well, and then I'm putting the lovely Al back on my list of blokes who could be about to get lucky. Actually, I might even promote him up the top of the running order. I mean, he's not that bad, is he?

I can't spend Saturday night on my own being all Bridget Jonesy on the sofa, I can't just sit there and drink too much and feel sorry for myself because someone has picked the scab off my scar and made me bleed.

-OG-

"Going out?"

"What makes you think that? I always dress up to give the kitchen a good going over …."

"Indeed …. I remember … sorry … shouldn't have asked"

The minute he looked at me with those eyebrows of his up like I was some annoying little kid who was getting on his nerves I was sorry I'd tried too hard to be funny and said something so incredibly dumb. It was just I didn't want to talk to him or rather I didn't want to listen to him talk about sodding Amber. I'd managed to avoid him all day and I didn't want to see him now, none of it at all was my fucking business, was it?

"Listen … Molly … Moll … about this morning … I really need to explain … I'm so sorry for what I said to you … it was unfair and unforgivably rude"

"Yeah it was …" I concentrated on tightening the strap on my new sandals, I wasn't going to look at him, was I? It wasn't like I was going to forgive him or anything "Is that it?"

"Not exactly … I want to explain about Amber, I'm sorry she just turned up here like that, I really wasn't expecting …"

Have you ever wanted to stick your fingers in your ears and do that "nah, nah de nah, nah" thing kids do when they don't want to hear something? Well, that was me. Or rather it was what I wanted to do. Childish is right, how old am I exactly?

"Sorry … but can we leave it for some other time? I'm already well late … really don't have time now …"

Nice one Molly, why don't you put it off again? But I really don't want to hear it, I want to go out and get blitzed. It's been a very long day.

"Of course, have a good time, enjoy yourself …" Cheeky sod was looking me up and down before he raised those fucking eyebrows of his again and then smirked "You look really nice … nice … _nightie_"

"Nightie?"

I'd spent a lot of time getting ready, had spent bloody ages in fact blowing my hair dry properly for once and had then used the straighteners on it as well, and I'd spent a lot more time and effort than usual doing my face. I'd been trying to hide that my eyes are a bit red, didn't specially want to advertise how bloody shattered I am, did I? Getting up at the crack of dawn when you've got a hangover and then spending all day trudging round the bloody shops tends to do that to you. But my new dress and shoes and my new lipstick do help a bit and I actually felt pretty bloody good about how I look, well I did until he said that. Not sure whether I'm in the right mood to give them a proper outing now, trouble is I'm not sure just who I was getting dressed up for.

My dress is nothing like a bloody nightie. Not unless Amber wears little black dresses that show off her tits, such as they are, to bed. Come to think of it that wouldn't surprise me, nor if she wears strappy high heeled shoes to bed either, and I bet her knickers and bras all match.

"You look .. lovely" He paused to put his head on one side and then chuckled like he'd been going to say something different "And … very.. _tall _… enjoy the party …"

"I will … umm … not sure yet, but I might not be back tonight so … you know …"

Might just possibly get a better offer you never know, better than Al anyway. Alright I know it's unlikely, but there's always a chance and anyway that'll give Charles something to think about, won't it?

"Actually, I'm going out myself"

Okay maybe it won't.

Course he's going out, Saturday night innit? And I'm not the only one been shopping, he's got this new shirt on, a blue one that really suits him so they'll be off out somewhere nice. Still at least if they're going out then they're not stopping in, although going out somewhere doesn't mean they can't come back does it? But please let them go to hers so that I don't have to face Ginger Barbie over the Coco-Pops in the morning.

"Have a good time"

"Yeah … Ta … you too"

I actually felt quite pleased with myself, I'd managed to make that sound as if I meant it.

-OG-

"Wha's up? Or shouldn't I bloody ask? You look totally brilliant by the way … _love_ the dress … go on, give us a twirl" Claire paused as I turned round for her to see the back and then turned back "And the shoes, can you walk in them?" She put her head on one side as I shrugged "What's up with you?"

"Nothing"

"In that case can you please stop being such a miserable bloody cow and cheer up a bit, we're supposed to be at a party and you're going to have me in tears in a minute"

"I'm alright …"

"Course you are …. Do you want to tell me?"

"Nah …. nothing to tell is there?"

-OG-


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews and all your support ..I hope you'll enjoy the way that things are starting to change … and by the way, thanks to Flossy for Amber … **_

_**-OG-**_

_**I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues**_

It might have been a better plan if I'd chosen the Bridget bottle and sofa because I'm not really in the mood for this bloody party. I'm finding it hard to pin a smile on my face when I'm so bloody knackered for a start. I've spent hours trudging round trying to find the dress that was going to make me irresistible, and then finding that everything that looked magic on the hanger looked shit on me. Getting all hot and sweaty pulling stuff on and then pulling it off again wasn't exactly what I'd call retail therapy, it wasn't any sort of bloody therapy. Trouble is my hips and bum are tragic reminders, if I needed any, of all the hours I've spent lying on the bloody sofa eating junk and drinking wine since I left the army. Being a bloody size twelve not a ten, and actually nearer a fourteen in some of them is not funny. Can you believe that? Shit. I'm giving up eating, taking up running, that sort of thing, am going to go to the gym and am even going to give Tigger another whirl. And definitely no more Galaxy. If I make myself stick to it I'll be back to a ten, but if I don't then I'm going to be the size of a baby whale before you can blink. I won't find a new bloke like that, will I?

Eventually hours and hours of being hot and sweaty with my hair like a walking haystack paid off and I found one that for once didn't look far sexier on the hanger than it did on me. The price on the bleeding ticket might have made my eyes water, but then that's what credit cards are for, innit? And then the strappy sandals with fuck me heels that cripple me went on there as well, don't even want to remember how much they cost, especially as it's sort of bloody debateable whether I can walk in them at all. Course they might be better once my feet go numb.

And yeah, I do know you have to pay the bill eventually, but I'll worry about that when I have to.

And he'd called my dress a fucking _nightie! _

-OG-

"Well … I definitely would …" I wish Claire would stop licking her lips like she's dribbling at the thought of him, and I wish she'd stop bloody sniggering, it's irritating "I can see what you saw in him …. so what was wrong with him then? Don't tell me …. he was…" She rolled her eyes "You know …a bit useless?"

"Nah, and even if he was you think I'm gonna tell you?"

"So, he was then? Fuck, what a waste"

"Will you stop it? That's my husband you're perving after… except of course he's not now, is he?"

"If you say so … I don't get it Moll, you said you don't love him anymore, you haven't seen him for about a million years ….but now … now you're saying you're upset because he's seeing someone else" She bloody sniggered again as if she was finding something really funny, well I'm glad someone is "Why does it matter if he is if the two of you are getting a divorce"

"It doesn't"

"Sounds like it does"

"It just makes me feel … I dunno … sad? For a long time I was in this dead soppy bubble, you know, I thought we was a bleeding Disney film, all happy ever after bluebirds twittering round my head, absolute shit of course… but I did think he was wonderful, thought he could walk on water and I had a job believing it when I found he thought the same about me, well not that I'm wonderful or perfect or anything, I mean, he knew all along that I wasn't but he never seemed to mind …or that he was too old for me, he said he loved me … and I believed him so we rushed off and got married …. then nothing turned out how I thought ….. I let him down, he let me down and we had all these awful, horrible rows … I can see now it was maybe all a bit quick"

I was doing my best to sound all sensible and as if I wasn't bothered but I'm not entirely sure it came out sounding quite right.

"But I'm not upset, Claire, I mean why would I be? It was all a long time ago now and well … we don't love each other anymore, not for ages … it's just … I'm a bit … you know, aggravated…"

"_Aggravated? _Is that what we're calling it?"

"Yeah … what's wrong with _aggravated?"_

Look I know, I know it's ridiculous and I know I've got no reason to feel any of this, and it's not like I still feel the same way about him as I used to, is it? But I can't help it, I am upset, I bloody hate that he never told me. Not that I'm going to tell Claire that, because I wish I'd kept my bloody mouth shut now. I can't expect anyone else to understand how I feel when I'm not even sure I know myself.

"It's just … I think … I mean asking some … girl to marry him when he's still married to me? It's not right is it? And if I'm upset about anything it's that he didn't bloody tell me"

Oh god, just shut up Molly.

"Why should he tell you?" Claire was now using that stupid voice that says she's humouring me, the one that reminds me of Bella, the one that makes me want to slap her. But it's my own fault, I bloody knew she'd pick up on that "I mean, was there any reason _why_ he should tell you? And if he had, what would you have done? Would it have made any difference?"

"Shut up"

"Okay … sorry"

She still sounded like she thought I needed humouring; she obviously thinks this whole thing is some huge bloody joke. I wish I could see the funny side.

"Tell you what, how about we put a contract out on him, that do you? Save bothering with a divorce"

"Yeah good idea …. won't be easy though, not when he's a trained killer like me …." The bottle of Prosecco I'd been swigging seemed to have emptied itself somehow, not sure how that happened "Oh bugger it"

"Here, tell you what … we could ask your Nan to help, she's bound to know someone"

Okay, that's it. Time for Claire to shut up now because I don't want to talk about it anymore, all I want is to get another bottle and carry on getting quietly pissed. And as for talking to Nan about it, she's got to be bloody kidding me. One thing I do know is that no matter what he did, Nan will always believe the sun shines out of Charles' bum. But I'm not going to get in an argument with Claire about it, not here, I mean, who was it said I don't know how to behave?

Claire upended the bottle over her glass and huffed when she realised there was only about two drips left and then glared at me, seems to think it's my fault for some reason. I mean it's not like I've drunk it all, is it?

"Bloody hell Moll, are we heading for one of those _drown your bleeding sorrows nights _…" She held the empty bottle up to the light and shook it "One of those lovely evenings where we both end up bawling our eyes out and then you puke?"

"Nah course not … why would we?"

Yeah, think we are actually. I need to do something to stop all the crap going round in my head and at the moment I can't make up my mind whether I'm looking at that _something,_ or should I say _someone,_ on the other side of the room.

"You're right … don't want to talk about any of it anymore, this is supposed to be a party"

"Not with him …"

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout"

"Yes, you do … him …"

She waved a hand towards where Al had his arm draped round some girl he was chatting to, some girl I don't know, at least don't think I do, don't recognise her anyhow.

"There's a bloody good reason why you said you were never going to play with him again …..and stop looking at him like that … you'll give him ideas"

"I'm not looking at anyone like anything …" Shit, didn't know I was being that obvious, why the fuck can't I do subtle? "Looking at him like what?"

"Like he's in with a chance … Come on Moll, stop it, I mean, don't tell me I'm going to have to save you from yourself?"

"Stop being so bleeding dramatic"

Okay maybe I am just a tiny bit pissed, but you can ask anyone who knows me, my drunken reflexes are legendary, second to none as a general rule so why should tonight be any different? On the other hand, it might be a good idea if I pace myself a bit better because I seem to have taken my new shoes off somewhere and now I've lost them. Or at least I can't remember where I left them when they started giving me gangrene of the little toes. Still they've got to be round here somewhere, haven't they? I'm sure I'll remember in a minute.

I can't work out whether Al is chatting her up or if he brought her with him but if that girl has already shagged him, then she'll already know about his little _difficulty, _or maybe he was telling the truth and it is just me he had the problem with. But seeing him over there for the first time since, well you know after the _stickiness,_ I'm not a bit sure I can go through with it after all. All that frantic fiddling around and rubbing at what I'm sure he thought was the important bit down there when actually he was nowhere bloody near, was only just in the same post code. He could have done with a sat nav or something to help him find what he was looking for, and the thought of him kissing me again when he made me want to wipe my mouth to get rid of the slobber isn't helping much either. Especially when the words puffer fish keep going round in my head.

When I was in the army I had this mate Jacs who used to say that the best way to judge is if you look at some bloke and can see yourself giving him a blow job, or whether the thought of putting your mouth anywhere near his dick makes you want to puke. I do miss her. Jacs and I sort of drifted apart after Charles and I went to shit, well, I drifted apart from a lot of people at that time because I didn't know what to say to anyone. I didn't want to hear any of the "told you so's" or even worse see any of the knowing looks and smirks, or the pity, so I just avoided seeing people and eventually they gave up on me.

Now I know there's a real danger I could end up needing a bucket if I go anywhere near Al's chipolata. Actually, looking at him now, I can't even imagine it. That's always supposing he wants to of course, he might not, but I'm not pissed enough to be wrong about the way he keeps looking over at me even when he's talking to her. They're all the bloody same, aren't they? Or maybe it's that it's been a long day and I've had a bit too much Prosecco on an empty stomach that I feel decidedly queasy. It might not be the worst idea ever for me to slow it down, pace myself a bit.

-OG-

"Good party?"

"It was alright …"

God, why does he always have to keep doing that? Creeping up on me so that one minute I'm standing here frying my bacon and minding my own business and thinking about a lucky escape from a puffer fish with a chipolata and the next I'm jumping out my skin. I have no clue what the fuck I'm going to say to Al next time I see him, I mean, apart from _sorry_. There's no getting away from it, I behaved really badly, even if I'm sure it was the right decision which must be a first for me when I've had a few.

Wish Charles could see I'm dying here? I wish he'd just go and do whatever it was he was going to do when he saw me in here and came in to torment me. He's all showered and dressed and bright eyed and rested looking so it's obvious he hasn't just come in from his run, but then I suppose it is a bit on the late side for that.

"No Coco-pops this morning?"

"Nah … what? With all that sugar? … all them empty calories, might as well eat the box they come in … my body is a temple 'n that …"

Oh shit, I really shouldn't have tried to be clever, not this morning, but that was what he used to say to me when I was eating something chocolate for breakfast. But not the bit about my body being a fucking temple obviously. Fuck, whatever made me say that?

"Of course …" He's laughing at me. Makes me ask myself whether it's really necessary for him to sound quite so bloody cheerful, Jacs would say it was because he'd obviously got his leg over last night and she'd probably be right. Cheeky bugger leaned over and nicked a bit of my bacon out the frying pan and then had to blow on his fingers where he'd burned them. I hope it hurt.

"Oi … get your own…"

"I was hoping to share your Coco-pops, I haven't had them for bloody ages, I'd almost forgotten what they taste like …."

I know exactly what he's up to, he's saying stuff to remind me of before, it's just I don't know why he's doing it and I'm buggered if I'm going to ask.

"Go and get some then, I forgot them yesterday" I shrugged, not sure what this memory lane stuff is all about or if I'm up to it this morning "Corner shop sell them, they'll have some"

"I'll make do with bacon instead"

"Hard luck … don't think we got any more …"

"What … you're not going to share?"

"Nah … why would I?" I wish I didn't find it so hard to look at him "Anyway, you've already had some of mine … that's your lot"

It's even harder to look at him when he pulls that face, why the bloody hell does it make me feel like I'm being mean when he pulls that soppy puppy dog look, the one that says _feel sorry for me_? His breakfast is not my bloody problem. But there's nothing worse than the smell of bacon cooking when you're hungry, except for finding out there's none left. That's worse.

"Oh, go on then… wouldn't want you to waste away would we…?"

"Lovely … thank you, you're all heart …you know that don't you?"

"I know …."

Just for a minute hearing those words and that laugh in his voice it felt like none of the shit had ever happened, as though things, well the two of us, were still the way we used to be when we were together. He used to say that all the time and just like now we'd be messing about in this kitchen, laughing and teasing one another. That was when we only wanted to make each other happy. And I had been happy. It hadn't all been about the sex, although admittedly it had been pretty bloody hard to keep our hands off one another, but it was just that none of it had lasted. And its way, way, too late now to start having regrets.

I had made my mind up that I wasn't going to ask him anything at all about her, wasn't going to listen if he decided to tell me, she's none of my business, is she? And I'm going to keep it that way. But that was before my bloody mouth started flapping without the benefit of my brain filtering what it was saying.

"Where did you meet her then?"

"Who, meet who?"

I didn't answer, just twitched my eyebrows, who does he think I'm talking about?

"Amber?" I just nodded with a mouthful of bacon sandwich, it's a lot safer keeping my gob shut rather than saying something when I'm not sure my brain is working properly. Anything I said would probably come out all wrong. He pulled this face and began to concentrate on his sandwich, but at least he didn't keep pretending he didn't know who I was talking about "I met her through a friend … she's a friend of a friend …"

"That's nice … how long you known her, you know, how long you two been together?"

"What is this? Are you interrogating me?" He shook his head "I thought you didn't want to know about her"

"Never said that, just said I hadn't got time"

"I'm not sure I want to talk about this with you"

"Up to you …. But I'm not interrogating you … why would I? I'm just ….. interested … just wondering why you never said about her, but hey" I did that eyebrow and shrugging thing again "You don't have to tell me if you don't want … if you've got something you .. prefer to hide"

Of course, it's a bleeding interrogation you muppet, and of course I'm lying, and I said that about you having something to hide because I knew it would get to you, I do want to know _everything. _I want to knowhow long you've been together, how long you've been shagging her, when you asked her to marry you, why you never even mentioned her .. ev_erything? _I want to know what makes you think you and her will work when you and me didn't and I suppose what I want to know most is if you love her more than you used to love me.

"You're right, there's no reason … I've known Amber for … must be … a couple of years …. and we got involved about a year or so ago"

"_Involved_? Is that one of them euphemisms?"

"If you like …" He laughed and shook his head "We've been on and off for about a year… although I've been away for a great deal of that … was that what you wanted to know?"

"Did she know about me?"

"Of course …" He had the grace to go a little bit pink, I think he knew I was going to say how come he hadn't told me anything about her "I'm sorry"

"Yeah … you said … why on and off?"

I grinned at the way he huffed and shook his head, but there's no way I was shutting up till I found out why he doesn't look like someone who's head over heels for someone. Hard as it is for me to get my head round, she said they're getting married for fuck sake, they're engaged, supposed to be madly in love, mind you he's always been dead good at hiding his feelings so it's actually really easy to believe he hasn't got any. I should know that if anyone does.

But he just shook his head again and it was plain from the way he got up and rinsed his plate under the tap and then kept his back turned when he put it in the dishwasher that he had no bleeding intention of talking about it anymore. Not to me.

"How about you? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?" He was still keeping his back to me, avoiding looking at me, which I didn't actually mind. I'm quite happy to not have him look at me when I tell lies, but what else can I do?

"Yeah …sort of … yeah I am I s'pose … Al ….Alexander …. but it's early days yet, innit?"

I'm not going to say anything about puffer fish or needing an instruction book, and definitely not chipolatas, all of which mean it's never, ever going any further.

"I don't know whether him and me are gonna work, you know … not really sure, not yet"

Yeah I am, he's toast. But there are other blokes out there, I've just got to find one, haven't I?

"Right … well … as you say, there's no rush is there?"

Why did the patronising git have to say that? He did it again, didn't he? He made it sound like he was doing that patting me on the head thing almost as if he's my dad. Not that my dad would bother but you know what I mean?

"Nah …."

"Sorry … it's none of my business ….is it?" He was looking at me for the first time since we'd started talking about my non-existent relationship with Chipolata man "I'm off to Bath for a couple of days, I haven't seen Sam or my parents since I got back … so … anyway … I've told the agent not to do anything until I'm back, I'm sure you don't want to be here on your own with strangers poking around the place … I'll be back Tuesday and I'll talk to him then"

Strangers poking round? Thought he said we were just getting an idea of how much this place is worth.

"Okay … did he give you any idea? You know, how much?"

God, that sounded dreadful didn't it? I might as well have asked him how much I'm going to get out of it. I sound dead mercenary … a bit Lizzie in Pride and Prejudice.

_How much? Did he just say what I thought he said?_ Bloody hell! I don't know what my share is going to be, I didn't ask because I was worried about how it'd sound if I did, alright no it wasn't me being all polite, it was me being a bit gobsmacked because even a quarter of that is more money than I thought I'd ever have in my entire life. Better not tell my dad.

"Right … well, see you when you get back then, and, you know, drive careful … I would say give my love to your mum, but maybe not …"

He gave this little snort of laughter and shook his head before he went off back to his room to collect his stuff but then stopped by the kitchen doorway on his way out to just look at me for a couple of minutes. He didn't say anything but then neither did I, I just stood there and watched him go.

-OG-

I'm not sure why I was so restless and bored, I'm bloody used to being on my own and I like it, well I always have before, so why did I feel lonely? I did what I've always done when my head's all over the shop, I gave the bathrooms and the kitchen a good going over. Whenever I'm upset or worried about something I scrub and polish and just about wear my fingers to the bleeding bone making sure everything's bloody spotless. I've done it ever since I was a little kid living at home, Charles used to say he always knew when something was up with me because you could see your face in the fucking taps. Not that it makes me feel any better, but just for a little while it does stop me thinking and that's a good thing. I have to stop all this, thinking about what used to be and what might have been is really doing my bloody head in.

-OG-


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Thank you for your kind comments – your reviews tell me that I still have your support. Writing can be a very lonely occupation, and I know that I'm speaking for others as well as myself when I say we quickly get discouraged and disheartened without feedback from you. **_

_**I'll Get Over You**_

I'd tidied up and put everything away, hadn't I? I'd done all my bloody washing and ironed my work stuff, I'd even ironed his fucking 't' shirt which is more than I ever do to mine, and I'd run the Hoover round and dusted, well alright, sort of, but then I didn't know what the actual fuck to do with myself. At times like these I really do miss being in the army, there was always someone around who'd be up for a laugh.

I was even glad when Claire rang at the door. She'd been incredibly bloody peeved with me when we'd left the party and got a taxi home, and can't say I blame her really. I'd behaved really badly and that's putting it mildly. Even I'm a bit ashamed of myself thinking about it now, and okay, I know I was a tiny bit pissed, well if truth was to be told, I was bloody ratted, but that's no excuse is it? Mind you, she was as well. I'd promoted Chipolata Man from _Mr Not even if he was the last bloke on earth _to _Mr He'll do _and had been hanging off him like a cheap suit, as Brains used to say. Have to admit I was using him to shut out the pictures in my head of my husband out there somewhere with that skinny red-haired harpie.

The poor girl that been with Al had got really pissed off with me, well, with both of us, him and me, and I can't say I blame her either but after giving us both the benefit of her evils she'd flounced off to find someone else to talk to. Which is just what I'd have done if I'd been her. It was then I found it didn't make a scrap of bloody difference telling myself that I was never going to get anywhere if I didn't stop being so picky, I still couldn't. Just couldn't. I was all over him one minute, and walking off and leaving him high and bloody dry the next. I just hope I never said anything about chipolatas because I kept thinking about them, I am going to have to grovel a bit and blame the booze next time I see him, you know, when I tell him that I'm sorry. Shit.

But it's just about the last person I expected to see, it's that bloody skinny red-headed tramp that I thought would be happily joined at the bloody hip with him in Bath. Amber. And she's wearing one of those frocks you'd wear to go somewhere important, you know like to meet your mother-in-law or something, some floaty flowery shit that reminds me of a duvet cover, very Laura Ashley or that other one who does all the flowery stuff, Catherine something or other. Okay, it's probably not that bad if you like that sort of thing, well, definitely not Primark, is it? And it looks like it was specially designed to look good on a skinny beanpole with no tits and no bum. Like her. It would look really shit on me.

Can't think why she's here bothering the fuck out of me when she's supposed to be with the love of her life. And his mum. Except, I do hope she hasn't got all dressed up like that to go to Bath to see the old witch and he's forgotten all about taking her with him.

"Fraid he's not here Amber …. he's in Bath for couple days with his mum .. and Sammie …. would have thought you'd of been there 'n all"

I just thought I'd rub it in a bit, you know, just in case he really didn't invite her, or, unlikely as it sounds, he's forgotten all about he's supposed to be taking her with him.

"Thank you, Molly, I know where Charles is …" I think she's a bit peeved, maybe she thinks she ought to be the one telling me where he is and not the other way round. Oops "Normally of course I'd be in Bath … but not this time I'm afraid …. something cropped up …."

She's lying, I bloody know she is, I can always tell, don't ask me how I do that …. I don't know, but for some reason I seem to have the knack. Or it might be wishful thinking because I can't think why he wouldn't have asked her, although I don't believe what she just said about having something else to do. As if.

"Anyway ….. it wasn't Charles I came to see, I came to see you.."

"Me? … Why do you wanna see me?"

If she thinks I'm going to stand here and compare notes or slag him off or something then she can bloody well think again. It's not going to happen. If she wants to know anything, she can ask him.

"I …. wanted …. I needed to tell you how sorry I am … I know I owe you a huge apology …"

Fuck me, that's a turn up for the books, innit?

I'm not sure whether I want her to come in, but don't know how I can keep her on the doorstep either while she says sorry for whatever it is she says she's come to say sorry for. Got to admit I do want to know what she's done. Bet you anything you like she's not going to say sorry for shagging my husband before we're properly divorced. Okay, so maybe he's not exactly my husband any more, but that's just details innit?

Seems I needn't have worried about whether or not to ask her in because looks like I got no say in it, rude cow didn't wait to be asked, she just barged her way past me. Again. Seems _barging in _is her bag. God, her manners are shit. Not only barging in like she owns the bloody place but going straight through to the sitting room and plonking herself down without waiting to be asked. And then the cheeky cow patted the sofa as if she was inviting me to sit on it with her. As if it was her sitting room for fuck sake. This is mine, not hers, alright might be his, but it's definitely not hers. Not yet. She's not married to him yet.

But you know, much as I don't think I like her, alright that I hate her, and much as I think she's got zero manners and even less charm and magnetism, it wouldn't take a genius to see she's a much better fit for him than I ever was, and I'm not just talking about the matching stick up her bum. She talks just like he does and I bet they look dead good together. Bloody girl is really tall and has got these long legs, I can see she's probably still tall even without those fuck me heels on the little ankle boots she's got on, little boots I'd kill for, and much as I hate to admit it, she is really very pretty. She's sort of glossy with that shiny red hair like a curtain and her perfect make up and threaded eyebrows, and you know what, I haven't got a scoobie what she does for a job I just know that whatever it is she doesn't get her bloody hands dirty. Not with them nails.

Let's face it, Amber is from planet perfect where I'm from a galaxy far, far away.

But it's Sunday afternoon innit and I wasn't expecting a visitor, so I'm allowed to look like a walking, talking jumble sale. I'm not going to let her make me feel shit for looking like a bag lady with my hair hanging in rat's tails and like it could do with a wash in my own home. All I bloody hope is that she's not going to make a habit of calling round for nice girly chats or whatever it is she's after, and if she's harbouring any ideas at all about moving in here with him while we wait out to sell this place then she's got another bloody think coming. Over my dead body, right? Let him go and move in with her if that's what they want. I'm dead easy-going me, you can ask anyone, but this is still my place even though she's acting like it's not, and I am not living here with her. Not now, not ever. Whatever he says. I'll change the bleeding locks on both of them first, she is not going to chase me out of my own bed because the other one is too small for the two of them. This is my home. Alright it might be his 'n all, or all his, but I'm still the one who's been living here, aren't I?

The way she's looking round is making me wonder whether he's said something about how messy I am and how hard it is for a neat freak like him to live with it, and I can't help feeling just the tiniest bit pleased with myself that this room is all beautifully clean and tidy. Alright I'm a bit smug, because tell you what, it would pass a white glove inspection. The floor's got no bits of crisp all over it, well not anymore it hasn't, and all the empties and dirty glasses are long gone, there are no pyjamas on the floor or knickers drying on the radiator and even the pizza box from lunch has found its way into the bin.

There was no need for her to keep waving her hand around hoping I'd notice, the way she keeps flicking her hair back is seriously getting on my bits. I know her hair has been carefully done to look casual, but I'm willing to bet it took her fucking hours to get it like that and she's not the only person I know that pushes her hair back with her thumbs like that. I do that as well but I do it when I'm a bit nervous, and I'm pretty sure that's not why she's doing it, there's nothing nervous about Amber. I want to tell her not to bother with the act because I clocked the rock when she was still outside on the doorstep, well it's not something you can miss, is it? And I have a feeling she's only just got her hands on it because we all do that when we first get the ring on our finger, don't we? I remember waving my hand around all the time till Charles laughed and asked me if I was practising directing the fucking traffic.

I noticed yesterday she hadn't got one, engagement ring I mean, and I'm pretty bloody certain that she saw me eyeball her bare finger, so she must have dragged him off ring shopping while I was busy torturing myself trying on dresses. I could be wrong of course but I reckon she was the one picked that ring, because somehow it doesn't look like he'd have anything to do with choosing it. It's big and it's flashy and even though it probably cost a bomb, I think it looks cheap and it's bloody hideous. Can't say that to her of course, can I? And much as I don't want to, I suppose I'm going to have to force myself to find something to say about it. Something nice. And pretend that it hasn't sliced through my heart from six feet away.

"Nice ring…"

God, I'm getting really good at this lying business, you'd be hard pushed to tell from my voice that I don't mean it. But you know something, even though I think it's bloody horrible, it'd really piss me off big time if it turned out to be a family heirloom his mum has passed on.

"Thank you…" She stuck her arm out in front of her and waggled her fingers up and down with a self-satisfied smirk on her face that made me want to slap her, then put her head on one side so she could make a big deal out rocking her hand from side to side to admire the way the diamond sparkled. That was just in case I'd missed it "We like it…"

Just as soon as I get rid of her I'm going to go and find my rings, I am not going to put them on or wear them or nothing, but I haven't seen them for a bit and I want to, you know, just get them out the box and have a look at them.

"So ….. what can I do for you Amber?"

I want to tell her to just hurry the fuck up and spit it out, say whatever it is she's come here to say to me and then kindly piss off. We're not friends and we're never going to be, so I'm not going to offer her a drink, I just want her to go so I can be on my own and, I don't know, iron my bloody 't' shirts or something. The one thing I don't want is to sit here looking at that ring and at the smug look on her face, I don't like the way she's looking at me with that stupid inane grin like I'm three years old and need her sympathy and understanding. I don't. I don't know what he's said to her about me, obviously got no idea, but it's a definite that I don't bloody need any of that from her. And she's taking so bleeding long getting around to saying whatever she's come here to say that I'm beginning to think it was just an excuse to make sure I knew about him giving her that great big fuck off flashy, trashy ring.

"Charles told me that I had to leave it to him so he was not very pleased with me when I didn't do as he asked and …. Well, I suppose I only had myself to blame when it went wrong … but I thought it would be a nice idea to pop in and surprise him … but I know I should have done what he wanted and waited until everything was settled … and you know what he can be like when he's annoyed about something? … He thinks my coming here upset you … so I've come to say that I'm sorry"

"I'm not upset …"

I'm not sure what she's actually saying here, not sure she is either, but apologising my arse. She's not really saying sorry, she's doing everything she can to try and turn herself into the victim and has just virtually told me she only came to say sorry because he told her to. Well she needn't have bothered. He needn't have bothered either.

"Why would I be upset Amber? Charles and I … we're not together, we haven't been for a long time"

"Of course, I know that …. He told me all about it, but …. As I said you know what he can be like …. He's worried that if you get upset you might start being awkward about the house and … this place … he's very worried you're going to change your mind about the whole thing before the solicitors have got everything properly tied up"

"Well, he thought wrong didn't he …?"

House? What bloody house? Don't remember anyone mentioning a house and change my mind about what exactly? What is all this and why is it her business? I know she's probably counting the days till I'm history, and I know he told me to get myself a solicitor, which I haven't got around to yet by the way, but I don't know what that's got to do with it. He said I needed to get one for the divorce, which I will, but I've got no fucking clue what she's talking about. Tell you what, I'm buggered if I'm going to ask which is what I think she's sitting there waiting for. God, I hate her.

I suppose I can see what he sees in her, a bit, she's all sugary sweet smiles and straight white teeth and I bet her hair's always like that, bet she never has bed hair or split ends. I bet she doesn't get the odd spot once a month. But I'm definitely not going to play her game of _I know things that you don't know._

"No need for you to worry Amber ... there's nothing to apologise for so it's okay"

Not that you have, and are we done yet?

"Look, I don't want to rush you or anything, but was there anything else? … only I got some stuff I should be getting on with and I'm out tonight …" I had a quick squint at my watch or pretended to "Time's getting on …"

It's not and I'm not and I haven't, but right now I don't give a flying fuck whether she believes me or not. I know I'm not being exactly hospitable but she came here to flash that ring and rub it in, to remind me that he's hers and not mine and that he's going to marry her, but you know what, I already knew. Still she's done what she wanted now so I wish she'd just bugger off.

"Don't worry I'll tell him you've done what he said and been round 'n that, and that you've told me you're sorry … and that you and me have sorted it"

"Thank you … that's really very sweet of you Molly, but please don't bother … I'll tell him myself when I speak to him later"

Tempted as I am, I can't be rude and tell her to fuck right off, can I? Because you know what? Whether I like it or not if I fall out with her, I'll probably never see him again. I don't know whether I still want to be his friend or not when this is all over, might not even want to be, but for now I'm going to have to watch what I say to her. It really doesn't matter, does it, that the more I see of her the more I think she's all wrong for him? It's not up to me.

-OG-

As soon as she'd finished saying what she came here to say, she faked a sudden memory of having to be somewhere and pissed off, well I wasn't exactly helping her out with some nice small talk, was I? I just wanted her to go. Got some hard thinking to do so it's probably a good job he's not back till Tuesday, I'm not even sure I know what I want to say to him. I don't know how much of this is his fault, apart from the fact that he's suddenly got crap taste, but I don't think I'm convinced by all that stuff she said about him suddenly being all manipulative and devious, that he told her to come and say sorry. It all sounded a bit suss to me and she didn't want me to say anything about it to him, did she? He never used to be like that, but I suppose he might have changed.

And I don't have a clue what all that was about a house.

But I suppose I do know he's entitled to want to get a proper life. We fell apart so bloody quickly, it wasn't like we slowly stopped caring about each other or anything, we got married in this huge bloody rush all bells and whistles and it just seemed like we had to be together and then had one too many of the god-awful bloody rows we'd started to have about everything and nothing and that was it, we were history. With both of us being as stubborn as fuck there were just a couple of very tense chats on the phone and a few texts and the dream was down the shitter. But that doesn't mean he isn't allowed to want someone in his life now, I mean, I do. He needs someone to buy flowers for on Valentines, okay, this is Charles so perhaps not that, but he needs someone to have a laugh with, someone who'll be there when he gets home at night, someone he cares about and that'll care about him, someone that he'll want to be the last thing he sees. I just wish it wasn't her.

-OG-

I did what I'd told myself I would and got out my _box._ It's got all my _out of sight, out of mind _stuff in it. Stuff that I haven't looked at for bloody months, probably nearer years because I keep it tucked away at the back of the wardrobe, but I tipped it all out on my bed. My campaign medals, and the one I got from the Queen, well, actually it was Prince Charles gave it me, still it was from the Queen, wasn't it? Sort of. Even my dad was proud of me that day. And my cap badge from the Under Fives. And there were hundreds of photos, some of them in albums and some loose and the little letters from Bashira, and the photos of her and Quaseem, and loads of photos from when I did basic. Nights out and that with Katie and me and some of the others. And the school photos of the little bleeders I'd taken with me to Afghan and the ones of my Nan and my mum and there was the album of the ones Charles took when we were in the FOB. These were the ones I didn't know anything about till after we were back home and sitting on the sofa one night and he got them out to show me just how much he liked me even then. How he couldn't keep his eyes off me before, well, before any of the rest of it and there was the one in the frame that I put straight back in the bottom of the box without looking at it along with the bundle of letters tied up in red ribbons that he'd sent me when he was in Headley and I was in Afghan. I didn't look at them either, just put them back in the box. It took me a bloody age to get up the courage to look at the pictures of the lads, to look at the ones with Smurf in them. Poor Smurf. I had to stop and wipe my face because of all the tears and snot, it's all such a long time ago now and so much has happened since then, and then I took a deep breath and looked at our wedding pictures. It feels so long ago. Him looking so incredibly bloody lovely, so good looking in his best dress uniform with that dead serious expression on his face and the one where he had this glorious happy smile on it as he stood next to me all dressed up like some Sunday night tele heroine, looking like the cat that got the cream with a goofy grin on my gob.

And my rings. Both of them. Rose gold. Both small and sort of dainty looking, well compared to that bleeding knuckleduster Amber is sporting they are. The plain little wedding band and my antique engagement ring that we found in that little shop in the Lanes in Brighton. It's sort of designed to look like a flower and has this diamond as the middle bit and then there are all these smaller ones round it shaped like petals, and even though I'd said I wasn't going to, I put them on, well couldn't not, could I? And then took them off again and put them back in their little box. They're just rings, aren't they?

Before he came back I had everything under control. Sort of. Alright maybe things weren't perfect, actually they were nowhere near, I wasn't that sure I'd made the right decision leaving the army, wasn't sure about my job, and definitely wasn't sure about my love life, such as it was. I'm still not sure of any of it but at least I wasn't all over the shop then like I am now. Even if we weren't properly separated, Charles was still well in my past and wasn't there in my head all the time. I know we still had things to be sorted because no matter what I told myself I hadn't really taken control of everything, not while he was still paying to keep the bloody roof over my head. But at least then I wasn't desperate to snog him while we were sitting at the kitchen table eating bacon sandwiches. And nor would I have spent Sunday evening sitting on my bed looking through old photos and trying to think up a way to kill his fiancée.

-OG-


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter for me, I am so grateful for your support – it is always so easy to lose a bit of confidence … and thanks as always to Flossy for her faith and unlimited patience. **_

_**Just Someone I used to Know**_

-OG-

It wasn't the best start ever to a Monday morning, was it? My head had been all over the shop after I'd looked through my stuff before going to bed, it was full of questions that I can't answer. It must have almost time to get up again before I finally dropped off, and then I slept the sleep of the bleeding dead, didn't I? It was a fucking nightmare trying to wake up enough to get up so I was this close to pulling a sickie, actually would have done, except I knew I'd spend the day wondering what the fuck to do with myself. I'd have ended up going over and over it in my head and getting precisely nowhere, so I went to work as usual, didn't I? And that must have been the hand of fate, or Lady Luck or something because I'd come _this_ close to taking the day off and it was only at the very last minute I hadn't and I'd have missed going on a job. A real job. I'm off to Abu Dhabi, which in case you don't know is in the United Arab Emirates. No, I didn't know either till I looked it up. And it's not a _be nice to the moron who broke his legs when he was drunk _babysitting job or even a _look after the old boy who fell in the water in Venice _job, it's a real one. Sadly, not on the Leah, but then everyone says that's overrated, it's claustrophobic and all the inside has been stripped out for a stretcher and medical stuff, monitors and that, so there's no comfortable leather seat and it can be a bit bumpy as well. Oh, and there's no hostess service to get you a gin and tonic. The patients are usually a bit on the tricky side as well, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't really love to try it some time.

This is what I joined for, what I left the army for, this is why I left all the things I was the nuts at for years, all so I could rush off home and put on my sweatshirt with the logo, and hang that I.D. thing round my neck, the one that says I'm official. I don't know why it's exciting, I should be well used to wearing a uniform shouldn't I? But it just is, like grabbing and signing for one of the med-kits I've checked and re-checked and double checked, so all I had left was to grab my wheelie case and passport and try not to forget anything vital. I couldn't find a pen in my bag so had to try and make lists in my head, which was not the easiest thing to do when you're sat in the back of a Uber, no time for getting a bus home today apparently so the company paid for it. I had to try and remember things like picking up my bloody charger from the kitchen because my battery's almost out, not that it matters that much I suppose, I'd got one of the company jobs with me and it's all charged up and ready, but I still want my own, don't I? In case someone calls me, or I want to call someone and say _here, guess where I am_?

I had to waste some of the time the office said I hadn't got going through my case and then looking for all the things I've taken out of it since I packed. It had been sitting ready on the spare bed so that I could just grab it like I'd been told, but it had been an absolute bloody age since Venice and, well you know, I'd taken stuff out. Had meant to put it back, but then hadn't got around to it. I did feel a little bit bad poking around in there when he was away, but only a little bit, not very, he wasn't there to ask was he?

The Business Lounge for Etihad at Heathrow is a whole different bag to the Easyjet departures at Stanstead or even British Airways terminal at Gatwick, it's so quiet and swish and full of people looking dead posh. I really wanted to take a load of selfies and send them to everyone I know, post them on Facebook, you know, show off a bit, but the thought of making a prat of myself in front of people having their civilised little chats and sipping coffee while they wait made me think better of it. I'd seen some of them look at me when I pitched up in my uniform and at the back pack with the huge red cross on it and I'm sure they must have been wondering what it was all about, but I'm also pretty sure they're well used to it, but me? Nah. Still, who'd have thought it? Molly Dawes in a blue uniform with the words Medical Assist in big white letters on her chest and back, waiting to fly Business Class to Abu Dhabi? Bloody hell! I did text Mum to tell her, asked her to tell Nan, although she didn't have to be asked, bet she was on the phone 2 seconds after she got my text, because they both texted me back before I'd even finished my cup of tea. Nan telling me to have a good time and to make the most of it, to find myself a rich Arab and bring him back as a souvenir, one who owns a few oil wells would be good, and Mum telling me to be careful like she always does.

Believe me, it takes a long time to get to the United Arab Emirates, more than 7 hours, but I was in my element, loved every single minute of it. Apparently, it's the insurance pays for the upgrade, but the company also tries to make sure you don't arrive feeling too shit on these long-haul jobs because you get hardly any time to recover on the turn round. Fuck me, they should try travelling for hours on a bleeding Hercules from Brize to a war zone sometime. Did you know you can lay down almost as if you're having a proper kip in a proper bed in Business Class? That they have all these soft blankets and proper pillows, but in spite of waking up feeling like the living dead I didn't want to waste a single minute of it being asleep. I wanted to find a film to watch on my personal screen or look out the window or, I don't know, just enjoy it.

It was only a short drive from the airport, but the Khalidiya Palace might as well have been on another planet. I bloody love it, I mean who wouldn't? It's right on the Gulf so it's beautiful and okay it's a desert, sand all over, but it's nothing like Afghan. I always used to have sand everywhere when I was there, in my hair, my mouth and my food, even in my knickers and I got to admit that that's what I thought this was going to be like. Only with camels. And oil wells. I'm not saying I thought this 5 Star place would be like Bastion, like an army camp and definitely didn't think it was going to be a shit-hole like the FOB, but I hadn't expected it to be the way it is either. I don't know why, after all it's a bloody rich country isn't it? There is just one tiny little problem with paradise because, guess what? You can't get a drink here, not a proper one, can you believe that? It's dry in the hotel! No booze, not a drop, none at all, not even a poxy glass of wine with your dinner. You could get one on the plane if you wanted, but I didn't, it's against company rules, but no-one said anything about in the hotel so it probably wouldn't have mattered. But even if I can't have a drink, I'd still love to come back one day, just for a few days, not too sure about a whole holiday without a glass of wine with dinner, but I'm not going to be here long enough this time to miss it am I? Or to really make the most of how lovely it is either, and I wish I'd listened when one of the others told me to bring my cossie. Stupid me, I thought she was having me on, and I wasn't that bothered because I don't really _do_ swimming. I mean I can swim, well I can now, Charles taught me on our honeymoon, but I can take it or leave it and actually I'd rather leave it as a rule, but the pool does look lovely and inviting and so does the beach. I think it's mainly because it's so bloody hot, except for inside in the air conditioning where it's a bit taters to be honest. But if I do come back some day it would have to be with someone, the bed in my room is the biggest bugger I've ever seen, there's room for a whole family in it, even mine. I can't help feeling a bit lost in it on my own.

The patient looks ancient … and more than half dead. Shit, I mean I knew he was knocking on a bit, he's well over eighty for fuck sake and that he's been really ill, had pneumonia, can you believe you can get pneumonia where it's as bloody hot as it is in Abu Dhabi? Well you can apparently. I'd read the notes very carefully so I knew all that, but he looks like he's about to wither up and fall off the perch and his wife that's with him looks almost as ancient as he does, although a lot healthier thank god. I have to admit when I first saw him in bed in the clinic all I wanted to do was turn round and run away. I hadn't realised how bloody frail he is, he's on continuous oxygen at the moment for fuck sake and I'm going to be totally responsible for getting him home in one piece. On my own. And not sure I'm up to it. I didn't think any of this through, did I?

This is nothing like holding the hand of a walking wounded or being a medic and patching up a battle casualty, even in a war zone there's always someone you can call on for help, a MERT with a trained crew, but this? This is going to be purely down to me. I am going to be 30 or 40 odd thousand feet up in the air on my own, and all I could think was _please don't let him die on me, whatever happens please let him keep on breathing long enough for me to get him back home_, this is my first proper job so please don't let me fuck it up. I haven't felt anything like this since that first time at Bastion when I was shit scared about whether I was going to be able to cope. I really don't get why they didn't send one of the IT trained nurses, why me?

In the end the thought that they could easy have done that and hadn't was what helped, knowing that if they'd thought there was any real chance of him dying on me then it wouldn't have been me here in the first place. They're not in the business of killing off the patients. And I'm well prepared, it's not like I haven't done all the refreshers and I can resuscitate along with the best of them, and it's just like being a medic in the army, my responsibility is to make them feel I'm up to it. Not to frighten them to bloody death with how useless I feel.

It took a while for all the stuff to be sorted, for the clinic to pass Ron as fit to fly, I couldn't help wishing I shared their optimism, and for the office to get clearance from the airline so it ended up being two days before we were actually on our way. Two days when I couldn't relax and enjoy sitting by the pool, because I was on edge the whole time waiting for the call to tell me we were off.

"Call me Marge, dear" is a really lovely lady, especially when I told her she shared her name with my Nan, although she's nothing like Nan. Nothing at all. Marge is little and round and is trusting and dead sweet, so not like Nan at all, and she's embarrassingly grateful for me even being there with them. While we were waiting for priority boarding, she kept on saying about how she hadn't been able to sleep because she'd been dreading trying to get Ron home on her own, and how happy she'd been to see me when I'd turned up in the clinic. Good job she didn't know that I was shitting myself at the time. I can't say that I wasn't still bothered about him because that would be a lie, I had my hand permanently glued to his wrist taking his pulse for probably the first 2 hours, and I couldn't stop checking on him but he did seem to be doing okay, well, in the circumstances. I had to be careful not to get on his nerves keep disturbing him, but his pulse was stable and anyway he'd been given a sedative so he was sleepy most of the time, kept nodding off for which I was heartily bloody grateful. Believe me seven and a half hours stretching out in front of you feels like a sodding lifetime when you're shitting yourself with worry and trying your best not to show it.

"This is really lovely, isn't it?"

Marge had been dozing and was now watching the hostesses serving tea and coffee and how they were smiling the whole time at everyone as if nothing was too much trouble for them, she's obviously as deeply impressed with Business Class as I was.

"Yeah, I thought so first time as well"

Okay, I might just possibly have given her the impression that I'm a bit of a seasoned traveller, well used to being in Business, but I didn't want to say anything about being new to all this, did I? Didn't want to tell her that this was my first time, I didn't want to worry her.

"I expect you've got some lovely young man waiting for you at home … Course you have, pretty young girl like you … what does he think about you going off all over like this? I expect he's really proud of you helping people the way you do"

"Nah … not now there isn't, well, I mean I used to be married … but he's been gone a while so I'm on my own and it's still pretty hard sometimes … you know …"

"Oh, lovey I'm so sorry … me and my big mouth …. But you're so young to be a widow … what happened to him? If you don't mind talking about it"

"Oh, nah I'm not …sorry… I didn't mean to make it sound like he's dead … he's not, it was just we went our separate ways close on three years ago now … although actually I've seen quite a bit of him last few days …. Hadn't seen him for ages but … he wants a divorce …."

"Silly man … letting someone like you go … you must have been very young when you got married … you're no age now .."

"Yeah, I was, but think I'm probably older than I look … and it's lovely of you … but not sure he'd agree Marge"

"Where's he going to find someone else like you, eh? Men can be so stupid …. Look at my Ron, we've been together for years, so you'd think he'd listen to me when I told him to see the doctor when all this first started wouldn't you? Would he? No, stupid old sod kept insisting a good night's sleep and he'd be better in the morning …"

"Just give it a few weeks Marge and I'm sure he'll be back home fighting fit …"

"Are you? I'm not … but I'm not telling him that, am I? Just need to keep on telling him everything's going to be fine … even if I don't think it will … no point in saying anything else and upsetting him is there? No more bloody trips anywhere though, don't want to do this again, do I?" Marge fumbled for a tissue to wipe her eyes "You tell that husband of yours not to be so bloody stupid … you tell him from me that the thought of being on your own when you're my age is no fun at all"

There was nothing I could say without sounding all wrong, I mean, what do I know? I don't know if she's right about Ron, I really hope she's not, but I have this horrible feeling that she should know if anyone does. I don't know how long they've been together, she just said it was a long time, but it's very sad. I'd love to see Charles' face if I told him what she just said, but you can hardly blame her for not getting it, I've only told her half the story. I haven't told her he's got no intention of being on his own when he's old and grey, it's just not me he wants to get old and grey with. It's me going to be on my own.

The job was over once I delivered them to King's College and I got to admit I was incredibly bloody relieved when they checked our passports on the plane and I saw the private ambulance waiting to collect us. All that was left then was for me to go back to the office for a de-brief and dump the med kit and then breathe a bloody huge sigh of relief as even Kelli with an_ i _patted me on the back and said _well done_. I think most of them remembered their first time and all I could think was that I hadn't fucked up. But in a funny way I'd got this really possessive feeling about them, Marge had been nearly in tears when she said her goodbye's and thanks at Kings, and so was I, they were mine, Marge and Ron, and I wanted to make sure they were properly looked after. I'm sure once you've done a lot of these jobs you get immune to worrying about what's going to happen after you stop looking out for them, and I know that's why they tell us not to let ourselves get involved. All I bloody hope is that the training kicks in before I end up as a bleeding nervous wreck.

-OG-

One thing I hadn't bargained on was how absolutely bloody knackered I was going to be once it was all over and I was on my way home. I know all about adrenaline draining away and how tired that can make you feel, but I hadn't had much sleep all week either so I promptly fell asleep in the back of the taxi. The driver had to shake me awake when we got home. I don't think he was best pleased about it, I think he thought I was pissed, and actually I was so bloody tired and hungry that it did feel a bit like that, even when I got myself indoors I was still stumbling round the place like some sort of zombie. I didn't know whether to be happy or dead disappointed that there was no-one in but me, I suppose I was disappointed that he wasn't there, but a bit of me had been dreading Amber being there with him. I wasn't sure I had the energy to be nice to her.

I was so bloody brain dead that I just stood with the fridge door open for ages and tried to think what the fuck there was I could eat, not that it mattered about the door because there was nothing in there to spoil. There was a bit of tired lettuce and some manky looking tomatoes, and a half jar of something or other and a bit of cheese that was rock hard, but there was no bread in the bin and the milk smelt funny, so it didn't look as if he'd been shopping in the days I'd been gone. The days that now felt like bleeding months. I'd sort of lost track of even what day it was.

The sound of a key in the lock made me panic, but there was no sound of more than one person coming in so unless he's given her a key, in which case I'd have to kill him, it's just Charles. He walked past the kitchen and stopped when he saw me then stood in the doorway and gave me that _look._

"You're back …"

Oh lovely, Captain Grumpy Draws is home, and I'm too bloody hungry and knackered and worried about Marge and Ron to want to get into it with him right now. I just want to find something to eat, preferably something without any mould on it, and go to bed for about a week.

"Yeah … why … where else would I be?"

"I have no idea …"

He turned and marched off and must have got as far as his bedroom door before he came marching back to yell at me a bit more, alright he might not have actually been yelling but he had that tone in his voice, the one that says you're in a lot of trouble.

"Just where the fuck _have _you been Molly?"

"Abu Dhabi"

"_Where?" _

"You heard me … Abu Dhabi … it's in the UAE"

"I know exactly where it is thanks"

If he knows, why is he asking? The tone of voice he's just used will get him precisely nowhere when I'm as tired as I am right now. I've told him where I've been and I don't have to answer to him, so I just pointed to the words Medical Assist on my shirt in a sort of exaggerated way.

"What do you think this says? You think it's a bleeding fashion statement or something? I was working … it's my job … _I was in Abu Dhabi … working_ … not that it's got anything to do with you … but I was bringing someone back home"

"And you couldn't leave a note to tell me where you were … so that I didn't worry?" Being Charles, he didn't say he was sorry, he just huffed "I suppose I should be grateful you're not dead … and why the fuck are you standing in front of the fridge like that with the door wide open? Are you hot or something?"

"Worry? Why would I think you'd worry?" I ignored what he said about the fridge, it was bloody obvious what I was doing "I thought we stopped doing that years ago … and why would I be dead?"

"And your phone was switched off …" He ignored what I said about worrying or about why he'd think I was dead, like he often ignores things that don't suit him.

"Forgot my charger, didn't I?"

"I didn't know that did I?" He slowly shook his head as if he was dealing with a moron "I didn't know where you were, so I didn't know whether something had happened to you … I just came back early from Bath and found you missing, no idea where you'd got to …."

"It's my job innit? It's what I do, and I don't want to argue … I'm tired and I'm hungry …"

"I'm not arguing …. And I know it's your job … but I was worried … "He took a deep breath as if he was trying not to yell "And I'm just going to get something to eat … what do you want?"

"You're gonna feed me?"

"Nope, thought I'd eat in front of you … of course I'm going to feed you for fuck sake… now, at the risk of being told I'm repeating myself, what the fuck do you want to eat? Chinese, Indian … Pizza?"

"Cheeseburger ….. please …. with extra cheese … no gherkins …. Oh, and chips … and please could you get some milk? … oh and some bread 'n all"

"Anything else? Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?" … "He stopped talking as I nodded and tried not to giggle "Are you sure you're sure? I mean I really wouldn't like to forget anything"

"Nah …" I ignored the sarcasm that was dripping off his tongue, even though I was now biting my lip with trying so hard not to giggle "Nah, you're alright, think that'll do …. for now, anyhow … ta"

"Glad to hear it …."

He was almost out the door when he turned his head to look at me in silence for a minute and I could see him nibbling away at that bottom lip of his, he was doing his bloody best to hide that he was grinning.

"Have you got any idea at all how hard it is for me to just walk away when you look at me like that?"

-OG-


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews and kind comments, I am aiming to get the next chapter out before Christmas, but if RL doesn't allow enough time, it races by these days, I really hope everyone has a lovely Christmas and thank you for your incredible support over the past year. I really couldn't do any of it without you. **_

_**-OG-**_

"_**The only thing different, the only thing new is that I've got your picture but she's got you".**_

What was that he just said?

Did I hear him right? Bugger, I can't ask him because he's bloody gone, hasn't he? But I don't know what to think, I know what I'd like him to mean, but that's not quite the same thing is it? Nan used to tell me that if I had the sense I was born with I'd take my time and think things through a bit more before I went jumping in with both feet and it's only been just over a week after three sodding years of silence. I bloody well know what the sensible thing to do is, I should go to bed, shouldn't I? Before I make a complete prannet of myself, but I'm horribly afraid I still haven't got a lot of sense where he's concerned.

I know in my heart that none of the way I feel is real. I don't need reminding, same as I don't need reminding that I only feel like this because I'm bloody knackered and can't stop being horribly bothered about Marge and Ron. I could really do with a hug, but it's not like we haven't been here before, is it and look what happened then? I can't go through it all again, it took me best part of a year to stop expecting to hear his voice every time the bloody phone rang, I sort of kept expecting, well hoping really, to hear him say he missed me and that he wanted us to try again. And then after I stopped hoping it took me forever to stop bloody bawling and start picking up the pieces of my life. But I did it, didn't I? I got over him, and just because things had been a bit tricky before we went to shit, all that bleeding fighting all the time, all them horrible things we said to each other, it didn't mean I didn't miss him when he wasn't mine anymore. It had really felt like some bugger had cut my legs off.

Now I'm beginning to wish he hadn't come back, the more I think about it the more sure I am that I don't want to end up back there again.

The trillion cups of bloody horrible airline tea I've had today have made my mouth taste revolting, it's disgusting like I've been sucking the inside of a sweaty trainer or something and I swear my teeth have grown a fur coat so I know my breath must really stink. He's just been bloody lucky he's been far enough down-wind of me not to pass out from the smell. I've really got to go and scrape the mildew off and I haven't had a shower for about 100 bloody years either, so I'm pretty sure my breath isn't the only bit of me that stinks. I'm minging. I've got that horrible _been travelling all day _feeling_,_ all stale and manky and sweaty and horrible and I actually feel a little bit cold and shivery as well, but there's not enough time to do anything except a quick armpit squirt of Tesco's finest and hope for the best. Mind you if that's not enough he'll either have to stay downwind of me or put up with it, I'm not sure why I'm letting it bother me so much. Pride I suppose. I bet Amber never, ever stinks.

But I'm going to be all sensible and grown up.

We're going to have our tea together and that's it, and we're only doing that because there's no food in the house that doesn't need a health warning. He's gone to get me a burger and hopefully some chips and he'll get some milk so I can have a decent cuppa, if he remembers, and then I'll offer to pay him back. And that's all. That's it. He'll most likely get himself a kebab like he usually does, or like he always used to, and that's all. Nothing else.

-OG-

I think I was almost past being hungry, well, I really didn't know how bloody famished I was until I saw my food and my stomach started to make all these really embarrassingly loud growly noises, and that was in spite of being on a plane all day where they kept chucking food at us. The burger was really good, well alright that might be a bit of an exaggeration, it was perhaps a bit on the marginal side although I didn't tell him that, and someone had forgotten about the gherkins so I had to pick them out. Still never mind, Charles likes them. And the cheese was that bloody awful plastic stuff that tastes of absolutely bugger all so in spite of having extra and me drowning it in ketchup it wasn't exactly the best I've ever had. But the chips on the other hand were lovely and his kebab tasted every bit as bloody good as it looked. And before anyone says anything, I know it was his, and I know I'm supposed to be on a diet, but I never asked, he just did what he always used to and gave me half. Then I did what I always did and told him I didn't want it and that he had to eat it himself, that it was his tea and I'd had mine and all the rest of the shit and he just shook his head and grinned at me exactly like he always used to. And exactly like then he said eating in front of me when I was obviously still starving made him feel guilty for every bit he put in his mouth and just like then it wasn't true. I wasn't doing anything of the kind, it was just him doing what he always did, looking after me and I know it's because it's an old habit and that I shouldn't read anything into it, or even enjoy it too much, but it's bloody hard not to. Funny how quickly we slip back into old habits, innit?

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel sitting there at the kitchen table with him, just like old times I suppose, just the two of us on our own sitting there eating take-away together. I mean we did it before with the bacon sarnies but this felt different somehow. Something has changed.

I could have done without the really long silence where neither of us seemed to know where to even look. I just couldn't look at him, maybe because I was far too bothered that if I did that, I'd give myself away, but I couldn't think of anything to say to him either. It came as a huge bloody relief when he got up and put the kettle on and when he kept his back turned and started to ask me to tell him all about Abu Dhabi while he fiddled about with that bloody coffee machine of his. Actually, I'm pretty bloody sure he didn't give an actual fuck about Abu Dhabi, I reckon he was only asking because like me he couldn't think of anything to talk about. And probably for the exact same reason I started rabbiting nineteen to the bleeding dozen about it, all about the place and the beach and the hotel and flying Business Class and then all about Marge and Ron. I could hear myself going on and on and on, bending his bloody ear about them and about how worried I was about them now we're back home and about how much I didn't want Marge to be right what she'd said about him not making it home to where they live. Even though I knew I had to be boring the living shit out of him, poor bugger doesn't know them from a row of houses, does he, I still kept rambling on and on and couldn't seem to shut up even when I could hear myself telling him the same things over again. You'd have to give him his due, he never once told me to shut the fuck up, and never yawned or anything either, just stood there with his back leaning against the worktop and watched me do my motor mouth bit. The way he was looking at me it was as if he was hanging on every word that came out of my mouth.

"You haven't changed …." He started to shake his bloody head slowly from side to side before leaning over and putting a cup of tea in front of me and then sitting back down to wait for his coffee to be ready "You know Moll, you really should try not to worry _quite _so much, you can't always solve everyone's problems for them all the time… you can't look after the world Molly"

"I'm not …. And I do know that, you don't need to tell me …. But yeah, alright … okay … sometimes I can't help worrying, can I?" I was a bit stung to be honest because it sounded like he was having a bit of a go at me "You telling me you never worry about anyone … nah, don't answer that …"

"Of course I'm not saying that … and I do know how much you always want to help everyone who needs it … and I know I should be telling you that you need to try a bit harder not to get so involved … not to worry so much … but … it wouldn't make any difference what I said would it? …. Just … don't ever change, will you?"

Now I was just plain bloody confused. I've got no clue whether he's being nice or not. His voice sounded a bit like he was, but then what he'd said sounded like he was actually having another little pop at me, and I can't tell without looking at him. I'd need to see the look on his face. But I can't do that. There's a whole lot of things I wish, starting with I wish I could make myself look at him, but instead I got all fascinated with tearing little bits off the empty food boxes and trying to make them into this neat little pile. It was as if playing with bits of yellow polystyrene was a useful thing for me to be doing. Knew it wasn't of course, but I couldn't seem to stop doing it.

"Hey … stop it …" He put his hand across the table and trapped both of mine under it and then held onto them to stop me fiddling. It was obvious he did it to stop me irritating the actual fuck out of him with the fiddling, but then he held onto my hands for way longer than he needed to stop me making a mess with little bits of box, then slowly ran his thumb backwards and forwards over the backs of my knuckles. I didn't know where to look or what to say. I knew from the way he was staring down at his fingers on top of mine that he hadn't planned on touching me like that, and I couldn't help wondering what he'd do if I just leaned over the table and kissed him. What it would be like. But I couldn't do that, could I? He'd most likely have a Julius, what with him being engaged to Amber and that.

Maybe people are right when they say if you're over-tired it's like you're pissed, but whether that's true or not, I couldn't think of what to talk about that would stop me wanting to touch him. I'd give anything to feel his skin against mine and to find out if those long fingers of his would feel the same if they wandered all over me like they used to, would I still end up a squirming mess the way I always did then?

But thinking like that is not helping, it's doing my bloody head in. The one thing I do know is that it was probably more than time I got myself off to bed before I ended up doing something stupid.

"I think I'm going to head off … I'm quite tired actually so I'll probably be asleep before the springs hit the floor"

Shit, why did I say that? I've got to stop saying things that'll remind him, it's not fair and there's no excuse is there? Anyway, I know how much I'd bloody hate it if he's forgotten.

"Yep you look it, you look shattered"

He suddenly seemed to wake up and realise he still had his fingers curved over the top of mine but instead of him weaving our fingers together like I thought he might, he jerked his hand away as if he'd been shot. But he was still looking at me and I knew from the look on his face that he remembered, probably every bit as much as I do.

"Thanks a bunch … you still say the nicest things" I always used to pretend to be all narked with him if he said things like that when we were together, I used to tell him he sounded like he meant I looked old and haggard "You haven't lost your touch have you? … still know how to make people feel wonderful"

"Indeed …. sorry ….… go on, piss off Dawsey and go to bed … sleep well"

Fuck, looks like I was imagining it all … Or getting it all wrong or something, because he obviously didn't mean what I hoped he meant. Anyway, thinking about it, it's probably just as well, what with Amber and everything.

"'night … and thanks for the tea … 'n I'm sorry about … you know, sorry about … disappearing like that and not bothering to say where I was … not leaving a note .. I just didn't think … I never meant to worry anyone"

"I know you didn't and don't be sorry …. there's nothing for you to be sorry about …. I'll see you in the morning … now go on, go to bed"

-OG-

Sometimes you know I really am a bloody sucker for punishment, I even get cross at myself with the way I keep rubbing salt in the wound. But I did just need to have a little look and check it was still the way I remember it. I hadn't looked at it when I went through my box, I thought it would hurt too much, and when I'd put it there in the first place I'd told myself I didn't ever want to see it again. But then I hadn't been able to make myself chuck it in the bin either. He'd given it to me after Smurf when I was on my way back to Afghan and he was at Headley, so it was all well before we were even properly together, when we were still all new. He'd said he wanted me to have it to make sure I didn't forget him, that he was worried I'd forget what he looked like. As if. Looking at it now you could see the smile on his face was showing the world just how happy he was, and he'd written 'With Love' across the bottom in that lovely writing of his. I remember how I used to get it out of my bergen every night and look at it, alright, kiss it, bloody muppet that I was.

I'm not going to read the letters though, I'm not that much of a numpty and it was still hard for me to look at because it reminds me of when he used to love me. And that says it all really doesn't it?

I'm going to have to start sorting things, aren't I? I can't go on like this so maybe it would be best if I see if Claire will let me crash at hers for a bit while we sort out what's going to happen next, the divorce. And before anyone asks, it doesn't matter how bad things are, I'm definitely not going home to hotel Dawes. Not only is it too hard for me to get to work from there, I can't stand the thought of everyone sticking their bib in, they'd all be having their say about what else did I expect from someone like him. That it's my own bloody fault, that I should know better and my dad would be saying how he'd told me before I even married him, which to be fair he had. And then the others, except probably Nan, would chip in with how they did as well. Which they didn't by the way.

This is nearly as hard as when I was first without him, when he was still in my head and was still the first person I wanted to tell when things went well, or when they didn't, and he was still the one person I thought understood me, but I'd had to learn hadn't I? And I'd managed even though it had been so fucking hard that even now the memory makes the back of my eyes prickle. I know that sounds like I'm just feeling dead sorry for myself and maybe that's true because I think I am a bit, but I'm never going back to that again. Ever. I just can't.

-OG-

Shit. Wouldn't you bleeding know it? I was so tired that I was sure I was going to drop off as soon as I shut my eyes probably even before my head hit the pillow, but no, I'm bloody wide awake, aren't I? I've tried keeping still and I've tried relaxing every bit of me, starting with my toes and working upwards and I've kept my eyes shut and I've done my best to snuggle down and switch my brain off, but my legs keep bloody twitching and I still feel like I'm on that plane. I'd already been up once and had a pee but now I'm going to have to get up again because I'm bloody thirsty. I've been trying to listen and see if I can hear what he's doing, whether he's in the flat somewhere but it's like the bloody grave. I can't hear a thing, not even the tele, but at least I can't hear voices chatting either, there's just this silence. I don't remember him saying he was tired and going to bed, he might have I suppose, but I'm sure he never said he was going out, anyhow don't think he'd do that and leave all the lights on, would he? I'm going to have to go and get a drink, my bloody tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth but I don't fancy the water out the tap in the bathroom, I'm sure I read something somewhere about how it's full of bacteria. It was bloody stupid of me not to think about bringing a drink with me to bed because getting up means I'm going to have to risk running into her. Amber. Shitting hell that's all I need.

Well at least they're definitely not in his bed. Well, the door was wide open which was useful to let me have a little look, well alright I might have accidentally pushed it open a little bit more so I could see, but that's okay innit? Can't do anything much about not having something else to put on, though, well apart from getting properly dressed and I'm not doing that, so if either of them don't like my pyjamas then they needn't bloody look.

After, well, you know after when she'd been round and I'd looked at my stuff on Sunday, I'd folded his shirt and left it all neat on his bed. And I'd put my rings on top.

I was sort of trying to tell him that they were all wrong about me and that I wasn't upset about her coming round, Amber I mean, well I was but there wasn't much he could do about that was there? I was trying to show him I wasn't going to make things awkward, I wasn't going to change my mind and make everything difficult for him like Amber had said.

He had to have bloody found them by now, but he hadn't said a word, so maybe it was what he'd been expecting, for me to give them back, but least he could do is say thanks. Actually, can't help being a little bit annoyed with myself about it now, but I can't really ask him if I can please have them back, can I?

-OG-

There was no sign of her thank fuck, there's just him asleep on the sofa with his head on one arm and his feet dangling over the other one because it's too short for him, so I just stood in the hallway and watched him for a bit. He looks just the same as he used to, his hair is all tousled, just like it used to be when I used to run my fingers through his curls. Fuck, it's a bit sad that me standing here looking at him when he's dead to the world still makes me feel like that teenager with a crush.

"Are you going to stand there looking at me all night or are you going to come and talk to me?"

Shit, hadn't expected that.

"Sorry … didn't mean to wake you up"

"You didn't …. I wasn't asleep … you on the other hand .. why aren't you asleep?"

He sat up and pulled the ear buds out and then swung his feet down onto the floor and stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He arched his back and then jerked his head the way he does to tell me to stop dicking about in the doorway.

"I thought you were gone for the night"

"I was … but woke up, didn't I?" Way to go Molly, tell lies for no bloody good reason, bet he'll be finding this conversation thrilling "I needed a drink … some water … I'm going back in a sec"

"Come and have some of this and … come and talk to me…."

"I needed a drink of water"

Shit. What the fuck was I doing telling him that again and waving the bloody bottle about in front of me as if I had to prove it? I don't know what's the matter with me, all I do know is that the more I see of him the harder it's going to be to make another new start once this is all over, once he's walked off into the bleeding sunset to start all over again with Amber.

"Come on, you'll sleep a lot better if you have some of this … it's Barolo … your favourite …."

"My favourite? That's funny, didn't know I had one … think you mean it's yours, don't you?"

"There is that of course"

He had this grin on his face and was trying to make me laugh before he re-filled his glass and held it out towards where I was still dithering. He obviously really wanted me to go and sit with him. Almost as much as I wanted to do it.

"You trying to bribe me?"

"Indeed ….…." He had this huge smirk on his face so that it was really hard for me not to smile back "Never fails"

"There's always a first time"

He had that look on his face that he knows gets me every fucking time, and I was suddenly filled with this horrible certainty that he still knows me through and through so probably knows only too well how much I want to just give in and do what he wants. I mean, why wouldn't he? He probably knows that I'm still a bloody pushover, except even I can see it's not the best idea I've ever had to go and sit close enough to smell his skin when I can't get the picture out my head of Ginger Barbie parking her skinny bum on the sofa exactly where he was just sitting. And her waving that bloody horrible fuck off flashy ring under my nose.

"Talk 'bout what? .. what do you want to talk about?"

-OG-


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: I hope everyone had a really lovely Christmas, and my thanks to everyone who took the time to review and comment on my last chapter when I know how busy everyone is. I know that this chapter is a bit on the long side, but I hope you'll enjoy the slow unravel of what's been going on … and as usual special thanks to Flossy for her unfailing patience with my constant editing – it is probably not far off driving her insane.**_

_**-OG-**_

_**Here you come again**_

_**Looking better than a body has a right to **_

I can't help it, I got nothing to say, have I? Not really. He might be back but he's not, he's got someone else and just because I can't see what the fuck he sees in her don't mean anything, alright maybe I can see but that doesn't mean I have to like it, does it? And I can't say anything, not without reminding him of all those shitty rows we had, when he'd tell me I had to grow up, and I'd yell and say I'd already got one dad and that I hadn't realised I was marrying another one.

I know I can't do anything about any of it, can't push her under a fucking bus, or make him wake up and decide she's hideous, which I got to admit seems a bit unlikely. But all this is bound to end in disaster, innit? For me. He's always going to be alright, and he's moved on, it's just I haven't, I did think I was getting there but I haven't, not yet, bloody well will though.

_I am not going to cry, whatever happens I am not going to cry …_

"Are you okay … you're not still worried about Marge and Ron, are you? Is that why you can't sleep?"

"Never been better … 'n who said I can't sleep?" Oh good, that was very grown up Molly, talk about being stroppy and denying the bleeding obvious, nice one "Course I'm still worried, can't just switch it off… but gotta learn, haven't I? Mustn't get so involved"

"Indeed …" Wouldn't you know it, waste of time trying to be sarky "You're very quiet … come on, talk to me Moll" He did that little laugh down his nose that pisses me off and shook his head at the same time "I never thought I'd hear myself say that, but always a first time I suppose …"

"You saying I talk too much?"

I heard the sulky strop in my voice, something I'd promised myself I'd never do again, not in front of him anyway, but all this, well it's doing my head in. He goes missing for bloody years and then swans in with that red-headed cow and I'm supposed to sit and have a nice chat about _whatever,_ drink his wine and pretend I don't care about any of it, pretend it doesn't matter. But I can't do that.

"Never mind …. only a bit longer to wait out 'n you'll be free to …. well ….do _whatever _ …"

If I was a nice person I wouldn't be shrugging my bleeding shoulders in a stroppy huff, I'd be lying through my sodding teeth telling him how I hoped him and Amber would be very happy together, but I'm not and I don't.

"Indeed …. I suppose there is that .."

Nice, getting better by the minute, innit? And you know what really gets to me? I know I've only got myself to blame. You'd think I'd have known by now that if you spout stupid shit that you don't even mean because you're angry and not thinking straight, there's a bloody odds-on chance you'll end up feeling even worse. Believe me it's true.

"Hey come on, what's wrong? What's the matter?" He obviously still knows me well enough to know I'm _this _close to losing my shit or to getting a carving knife and chopping bits off him or something "Where's that beautiful smile of yours gone?"

"Take a wild bleeding guess? Sorry … Nah …. I'm not actually … I'm not a bit bleeding sorry … it's alright for you, we had a bit of a fight and you fucked off 'n then I didn't even know if you was still alive"

Alright that might not be exactly true because it was more than a bit of a fight and anyway someone would have told me if anything had happened to him, but still it's the principle innit?

"And you always knew where I was, didn't you? Not that you cared …"

"Of course, I cared …. What are …"

"Yeah right … that's why first I hear is when you turn up saying you want a divorce … to be _with her_ … and you expect me to be happy about that … what did you think Charles, that I'd say _lovely, course…. you only had to ask _and then dance at your fucking wedding? Don't you ever get tired of being so bloody selfish?"

Got to admit he was staring at me like I'd grown another head or something, but I was not only beyond pissed at him but I was on a roll and couldn't seem to stop no matter how hard I tried. I couldn't shut up. Although to be honest, I wasn't trying that hard.

"I'd of thought even you'd be getting a bit sick of yourself by now, mate, know I am … Oh no, forgot, you're the grown-up so you're always bleeding right, aren't you?… and …. And …. And …. And ….and it's none of my fucking business what you do once you're shot of me, is it?"

"MOLLY .. are you done? Have you quite finished? Are you going to shut up just for one minute, because I have got absolutely no fucking idea what you're talking about"

"Yeah you have"

"No …. I haven't … Dance at whose bloody wedding? What are you talking about? Who's getting married? Me? Who to? Are we talking about Amber here? Oh, for fuck sake Moll … Give me a break … who the fuck said I was going to do that, where is all this is coming from?"

"You, it's came from you … you bloody said … you told me…."

"Me? ….. I don't think I did …"

"Yeah … you did"

He did, didn't he? Oh shit, I'd been so bloody sure, but now I can't think straight I couldn't swear to who said what, I know Amber said a hell of a lot, far too much if you bloody ask me, but I can't remember what he said … or come to think of it even whether he was there when she said it. But just sometimes it's not the words you say is it, it's the ones that are there in the silences? And he never said he wasn't with her, I'd remember that.

"When did I say anything like that?"

"You said … Amber said … she definitely… Oi, get off …what you doing?"

"Don't ask stupid questions" He'd grabbed my hand and lifted it onto his thigh where he was holding it in a sort of vice-like grip so I couldn't move it away "Hey … I don't know what's been going on, what she's told you … but one thing I can promise is that she didn't get any of it from me …."

"But she said …." I had to stop and have a little swallow, my mouth had gone like the Gobi Desert for some reason "I can see how she's, you know, perfect …. dead pretty ….. 'n that"

"Yup …she is …"

"'n tall"

"Yup … she's that as well"

"I mean …..… do you …. you know …. _love _her?"

"Nope …"

He never even stopped to think about that, did he? He'd just come straight out with it and I badly wanted to ask him why the fuck he was with her if he doesn't love her. Okay, when I say I wanted to _ask,_ what I actually mean is I badly wanted to yell at him, but couldn't really do that, could I? If Al hadn't been so shitting useless, I'd have been with him, and I definitely don't love him. Sometimes it's got more to do with being a bit on the lonely side and wanting someone in your life.

"Don't tell me you was being a bit of a prick and pretending you was gonna marry her? You know, promising her stuff …?"

"No, I was not, I can honestly say I've never told Amber I want to marry her"

"Can see she loves you"

"No, she doesn't … you don't suddenly decide you love someone because of a fucking house …"

"Some people do .." Alright maybe Lizzie and Darcy wasn't real, but could have been, couldn't they?

"No, they don't ….… people don't decide they love you or want to be with you because of the things you own … they love you because of who you are and Amber and I … we were _friends _… we got on well and I suppose it seemed …. enough … or at least it was what I settled for… when I met her, I was doing my best to move on from very short-lived … casual … _friendships_…. Amber and I … were never …. serious …. I've done a lot of things in my life I'm not proud of Moll, but promising to marry Amber when I don't love her is not one of them"

"Casual? Are you saying you had one-nighters before she came along? … You?"

"No, of course not … well, maybe they weren't always a lot more than that I suppose, but as I said I'm not proud of it … hey what's so funny?"

"Classy ….…"

"Not particularly"

I wanted to ask him how he could, I'd have thought he'd got more _something or other_, probably sense or taste or something than to make himself cheap like that. Alright, I admit it, I was really jealous, okay?

"Never had you down as a tart …"

"I'm not …. are you smirking?"

"Nah, why would I be? It's not funny"

"Then stop sniggering …. Look, Amber and I both knew perfectly well we weren't actually going anywhere … God, I was still married for one … and then … well, when I was in Kenya a little bird whispered in her ear about divorce and about the bloody house ….…. a little bird that I'm pretty sure looks a lot like my mother … and that was when everything changed ….. and then she found out I was staying here …."

"She's right up your mum's street though, isn't she?"

He didn't bother denying it, I don't think he could bring himself to straight out lie to my face so just leaned forward and picked up the glass and refilled it to the brim. He took another big gulp before he said anything, seems that whatever he's got to tell me needs booze. Lots of it.

"She looked you up and saw a threat … she could see just how …. young and …well … beautiful you are … and decided she needed to do all she could to see you off"

"_See me off_? What do you mean _see me off_, see me off from what?"

"Me"

"You? Didn't you tell her about us? I thought she said she knew ….. and she said about a house but I didn't know what she was bloody talking about …"

"When? When did she say that?"

"When you was in Bath she come round and said you told her to, that you was shitty about … stuff and she had to come and say she sorry ... but she said she was going to tell you herself"

"She was right about one thing, I was fucking furious with her but I didn't tell her to come and say sorry Moll, why the fuck would I do that?" That _nothing ever gets to me, I don't get involved _mask of his seemed to be slipping a bit "Did she upset you?"

"Bit …... minded more about when she waved that bloody ring under my nose"

Shit, hadn't meant to mention that, what was I thinking?

"What ring?"

"The one you give her.."

"If Amber's got a ring she bought it herself, it's nothing to do with me … any of it .. and she wasn't about to tell me anything either, we're not seeing one another anymore"

"Oh … does she know that?"

"Of course … coming round here the way she did … backfired on her" There was just a little hint of colour on his cheeks as he chewed at his lip "Actually she's not very pleased ... _over-reacting _was how she put it, but the thought of living in that house meant she was going to carry on convincing herself that I'd get over it …. would see it was right …" He was shaking his head "Amber couldn't see things had changed … she was so busy building fucking castles in the air based on whatever fairy tales my mother had filled her head with that she couldn't see we were never going to live in one together ….. and then when I spelt it out for her she got a tad upset …. Said I'd been wasting her time not to mention denying her the chance to have kids …. and just about everything else that we'd never even talked about"

Sounded to me like Amber might have been a bit more than _a tad upset_, it sounded more like she'd gone _fucking ballistic_, but you got to hand it to her, haven't you? She's a bleeding good actress. No-one could've guessed from the way she was when she came to flash that ring under my nose that she'd just been dumped. Oh dear, poor her, I know I should try and feel a bit sorry for her, heart bleeds and all that shit …but … well, you know.

"What house?"

"Sorry … thought you knew …. Royal Crescent … they're arranging transfer of title … it's all about legally minimising tax liabilities …..…"

"Bloody hell … Your mum and dad are moving out 'n letting you move in there …. where they gonna go?"

"I'm not moving in …. God forbid"

He let go of my hand to run his fingers over his head like he does when he's a bit bothered, for some reason it doesn't look like he's exactly chuffed to nuts at the idea of getting his hands on that place. Mind you, if I was him, I wouldn't be jumping up and down either at the thought of having to live in that house with his mum.

"They're not moving out and before you ask, I'm not moving in ….…. the solicitors are putting a lot of pressure on me to get our situation resolved before the legal stuff goes ahead … I detect my mother's hand in that somewhere as well"

"What you saying?"

"She's a bit ….. _concerned _… about the division of our assets"

"What assets? I haven't got any …. 'ere .. you saying she thinks I might cop for a share of her stately home as well as this place? Is she right, will I?"

"Don't push your luck"

It was very hard not to laugh at the thought of the look that would be on my dad's face if I did manage to get a share of that house as well as of this place. He'd be in his idea of bleeding heaven. Not that he'd get his hands on any of it, but that wouldn't stop him making plans on how to spend the money for me, would it? But I don't want any of it. Don't tell my dad that whatever you do, he'd never forgive me.

"That bloody stately home as you call it is where money goes to fucking die … it costs a fortune to just stop the roof falling in"

He was laughing just the way he always used to when we'd sit and talk like this about … well, nothing in particular, I suppose, just everything in general. But that was before.

"Don't look at me, I haven't got any … Is that why you need to see about flogging this place?"

"I keep telling you … I'm not going to do that …."

"Why now Charles … I mean, why did you come back now? Was it just … you know … the house 'n that?"

"That's a good question …"

And that's one of those bleeding annoying things people say when they're trying to cobble together some tactful bullshit, which is not what I want to hear.

"So … come on then, why? … I can see you had to talk about the divorce but you could have rung and then why did you stop here ….…. I mean, why didn't you go back to barracks or wherever you was living before Kenya?"

"Lovely … nice to feel so welcome"

"You know what I mean"

"I never intended to stay here Molly …"

"Why did you then … and why didn't you ring?"

"I know … I should have … but _you_ could have rung _me_, you know"

"I didn't know you was thinking of a divorce, did I?"

"No, I didn't mean …. it doesn't matter … look, the solicitors pestering the fuck out of me was pushing me into getting things under way so it was a question of getting on with it and that was exactly what I thought I was doing … I thought we'd sit down and have a reasonable discussion … make a start on sorting out the mess …"

"Mess?"

"You know what I mean …"

"Nah I don't actually …"

"_Don't cry, don't cry, whatever you do, do not cry …"_

I'd got no idea why it was hurting so much, it wasn't like it was news to me or anything, I'd known all along a divorce was going to happen one day.

"Mind you, I hadn't bargained on you not being at home when I got here ….."

"What? You thought I was sitting at home every night just in case …?"

Well he wasn't far off actually, I'd spent a hell of a lot of nights on the bloody sofa with a glass of wine and Netflix, not to mention Pringles, just look at my bum if you don't believe me. Not that I was waiting for anyone to pop in or nothing. It was just pure luck I was at Pilates that night.

"Sorry about that … course if I'd known you was coming …"

"I know … you'd still have gone out …"

"True …"

Even though he was trying to be all light-hearted and jokey, the smile I'd got pasted on my face wasn't real, none of it felt remotely funny somehow.

"Why did you stay then? Once you'd told me what you wanted … why didn't you just …. go? We could have arranged to meet up and sign things that needed signing"

"I don't know … perhaps because I found myself persuaded by your incredible charm and magnetism"

"That's not funny …. And not true neither"

"Isn't it? Sometimes I wish I didn't remember it all quite as well as I do …. But I do, Moll … I remember every bit … the first time I saw you … our first row …"

"Same thing, wasn't it?"

"Yup …pretty much" He stopped talking and looked at me sideways "I remember it all so well, every last bit, what we said the first time we talked, what it felt like to kiss you that first time ….then when I woke up to just how much I loved you and telling you that first time … and the last.. and you in those bloody pyjamas …"

"Was that why you wanted me to wear your shirt?"

Got no clue why I said that when I already knew the answer, maybe it was just I wanted to hear him say it.

"You know it was … not that it helped much, did it? I'm not sure which was worse, you walking around in that top and those shorts or you walking around in my shirt … and me wishing I could ..…."

"Wishing you could what? You yelled at me…"

"I know … but I did say I was sorry" He wasn't looking at me so I couldn't tell whether he was smiling but it sounded like it from his voice "When I first got here … you were out and I let myself in and this place felt ….. well, it was like a lot of other places I used to live … it felt familiar …and then I heard you come in … I couldn't see you, but I could hear you, you were laughing and suddenly this felt like home"

"Really?"

"Yup … and you were so un-fucking-believably thrilled to see me …."

"Was, wasn't I? Over the bleeding moon … sorry about that …"

"No, you're not …. But … that was my fault as well, wasn't it? And I suppose at least you didn't throw me out on my arse which was what I half expected"

"Thought about it, didn't I? …. Didn't think I could though, you're still a bloody sight bigger 'n me and this is still your place not mine"

"Of course, it's yours, it's ours"

He lifted my hand up again and shook it before he put it up to his mouth and then gently kissed across my knuckles one by one. He put it back on his leg and I had this really hard job not letting my fingers go for a little wander as he raised his eyebrows and blinked at me a few times, before shaking his head and looking back down at the floor.

"Have you got any idea what it felt like to come back early and … find …. the place empty …. and your rings sitting on top of my shirt, which was beautifully ironed by the way, thank you, that really was above and beyond …I know how much you love ironing …."

"Don't mention it …"

"Okay I won't …" He smirked "Finding your bloody rings on top like that …" He stopped smirking and shook his head "I thought you'd gone Molly .. I really thought you'd left and gone off with what's his name …. Al? And I didn't know where, so I couldn't come and get you"

"Would you really have done that?" He didn't say either way, just chuckled, so I don't think he meant it actually. Shame.

"Cheeky bugger, none of your business if I had …. Poor Al, I mean he's a lovely bloke 'n I did try …."

The smirk on his face had gone as that little frown between his eyes came back and I bloody knew it was the thought of me being with someone else. I know we're all split up and going to get divorced but he doesn't like the thought of me being with Al any more than I'd liked the thought of him being with bloody Amber. I know it's wrong, but I bloody loved knowing he was jealous, it felt like such a long time since he used to look at me like that all the time.

"Poor Al, never really had a chance and it wasn't his fault, it was just … there's this problem…. I can't … I don't love him … don't even fancy him really"

Well I wasn't going to tell him, was I? I couldn't say he's got a knob like a chipolata and no control and I definitely wasn't going to say that it's because he's not you. It might be true, and it might be why it's been so fucking hard to find someone else, that every time I've tried to get close to anyone to have any sort of anything, it's ended up a bleeding disaster. And that's putting it nicely. I've tried so bloody hard, I really tried with Chipolata Man, but he wasn't the first or the only one, it's just none of them even came close to making me feel the way I want. But I'm not going to tell him any of that am I, I'd be leaving myself wide open to all sorts of hurtful shit again, and that wouldn't be very clever.

"I thought my rings would be like … you know, souvenirs or something, would remind you of me …. can I have them back then if you don't want them?"

"_Souvenirs_? Fuck Molly, you thought I'd need your rings to remind me of you? And no, you can't have them back"

"Why not? Shit, you haven't pawned them already, have you?"

"Might have …."

"You haven't …"

He's bloody well smirking so it's obvious he hasn't done anything with them, at least I hope not, but he seemed a bit annoyed or hurt or something when I said about them being souvenirs. I suppose it was a bit of a shit thing to say.

"Fuck this …." He was busy looking at nothing before he turned his head to look at me with that look on his face that says he's trying really hard not to look bothered one way or the other "Do you still want to do this … get this divorce?"

"Wasn't me wanted it in the first place … that was you …. Anyway, thought you had to ..what with the house 'n that"

"Never mind about all that … and that's not what I asked …. Do you?"

"Dunno … I mean I was maybe thinking of getting cats instead … you know, being a cat lady …"

Okay so maybe that might have just popped in my head, and maybe I might just have been playing silly buggers a bit, well a lot really, but I was trying to think very carefully what I actually wanted to say before I said it to him.

"A what? …. Lovely … I didn't even know you like cats"

I don't know that I do, I've never really had much to do with any, but I know he told me once that he doesn't, or that he can't be around them or something.

"I did tell you there's a ton of things you don't know about me these days"

"Indeed ….…. so I see … Okay, well … fine …. If that's what you want … we'll get some cats"

"We? You don't like them … thought you told me once you're allergic or something …"

"I'll get some fucking anti-histamine … now, stop bloody prevaricating …"

"I would if I knew what that meant.… 'n I don't need anyone to get them for me, I can get them myself"

"I know you can … now … are you going to tell me whether you still want to be married to me … or not?"

"I will tell you … but … when you tell me I can have my rings back ... so can I?"

"Nope …"

"Stop being mean …"

"Molly?"

"What?"

"Stop pissing about and answer the bloody question"

-OG-


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: I know, I know it's taken a while but real life has this awful habit of getting in the way. Will try to be quicker with the next one but wanted to get this out today so that I couldn't do any more edits and re-writes! Thank you so much for your kind reviews and comments on Chapter 9, I hope that you enjoy this and as always massive thanks go to Flossie, she knows what for! **_

_**I will always love you**_

I don't want a divorce, you know I don't, I was telling the truth when I said wasn't me wanted one in the first place, wasn't I? But got to admit I am a bit worried it might be more that I want him to want me back. I've got to be sure what I'm doing, haven't I? I don't know whether this feeling is a bit because I'm bloody delirious he's not with that red-headed cow. I need to be all cool and calm, or at least I want to keep up pretending I don't give a handful of fucks, but it's really hard, and I don't know how much is because I'm so tired I want to bawl my bloody eyes out.

The memories of that day just keep wanting to slap me round the head. I can't seem to put them back in the cupboard under the stairs where I've always put things I don't want to think about. Where they belong. Because he's still the same Charles, isn't he? I mean, still exactly the same tall and dark and fairly attractive, alright the same insanely bloody good-looking bloke I fell in love with, he hasn't even got the decency to look any older. The only thing I can see different is that he's got a bit of a tan from being deployed, you can see the pale strip on the back of his neck where he's had his hair cut, but there's nothing else. It wasn't exactly suntan weather that day, was it? It was pissing down and we had the lights on and we'd been sniping and bickering and then yelling at one another one minute with quite a bit of door slamming as well, although that had been mainly me to be fair, and then next minute I was standing at the window on my own watching him put his collar up against the rain as he walked out of my life. He didn't even look back, well not while I was watching anyway.

I don't know where he went, at the time I thought he'd probably gone to Bath, but when we did get round to talking on the phone I never asked. It was all long silences and not saying much at all, both still all hurt and huffy I suppose, and too stubborn, all I know is that I didn't ask him to come back and he didn't say anything about it either, I was waiting for him to calm down and come back on his own and well, you know how well that went. And now he's back and sometimes it feels as if I know every tiny little thing about him and then others it's like he's just someone I used to know. But there are still all these little flashes of the old Charles, and when he looks at me and smiles my stomach still does bloody handstands.

And he's still got the best bum in the world, the best one I've ever seen on any bloke anywhere, ever.

"I never meant it to be a big deal, you know, it was just … me trying to be nice …. didn't think you'd be that bothered anyhow"

Oops well there's a fucking great big lie if ever I've told one. Of course, it was a big deal and of course I'd wanted it to bother him, that was the whole bloody point. It had been my reason for leaving them there for him to find, hadn't it?

"Nice? NICE? For fuck sake Molly what the fucking hell was supposed to be nice about it? There was nothing nice about it"

"Yeah … well … I got it wrong, I know that now, but it was your fault … you told me you didn't love me anymore so …"

"When? When did I ever say anything remotely like that?"

"You did … you told me you wanted a divorce 'n that's the same bloody thing, innit? You don't say _off you fuck_ to someone you love_, _do you?"

I know it's a habit but someone really should tell him to stop tugging his hair like that, he's going to end up with a bald patch one of these days.

"No … I suppose there is that …"

"Amber told me you was bothered I might gonna turn awkward 'n fuck it up with the house …..I was just trying to show I wasn't … that's all"

It had seemed like such a bleeding good idea at the time when I'd been sitting on my bed surrounded by my photos and stuff and feeling dead sorry for myself after I'd been looking back at my memories of Afghan and the lads. And Smurf. It had made me feel even more lonely and fucking miserable at the thought he'd chosen to be with that ginger stick insect with the shit attitude and not me, it had been like someone was sticking a knife in my guts. I think I might actually have been in danger of turning into one of those bunny boilers, although I hadn't come up with any plan of what I could do, but that's just details, innit? As it turned out it wasn't like that but I didn't know that at the time, did I? I believed every bloody word she'd told me, I mean, why wouldn't I? It was only in Abu Dhabi that things looked different, I suppose I'd calmed down and started to think it through a bit more, and I could see what a dumb move it was but it was too late to think better of it, wasn't it?

"Oh fuck, we're back to Amber …." He sounded as though he was getting a bit bewildered "I never stopped loving you Molly … but then you know that"

"Do I? How would? Not a bloody mind reader, am I? You said you wanted a divorce and she said you and her was together ….. so, what was I s'posed to think?"

"Amber was lying through her bloody teeth… very successfully it would seem"

"Yeah … well, good at that isn't she? … I mean, I know now it wasn't how I thought, but I didn't then, did I? She did keep turning up here ….…. you gonna stop being mean now and give me them back?"

"Looking at me like that is not going to change a thing …."

"Like what? Not looking like anything …. I never remember you ever being mean like this before"

"There are a lot of things about me that are not the same as before Molly, but one thing I can guarantee hasn't changed is that I am never, ever mean"

"Oh sorry …. forgot you're perfect …. hard having to put up with the rest of us eh?"

"Indeed ….. well, it certainly can be" He shouted out a laugh "Sadly as we both know Moll, I'm not even close …"

"True …"

"Funny …. Look, the one thing I do know is that I made a bloody mess of it, of us … I couldn't have got it more wrong if I'd tried"

"That's not true … It wasn't you …. It wasn't only you, was it? It was both of us" Shit, why does my mouth come out with things without my permission, why the fuck do I always do that? "You don't need to be nice about it, I do know it was me you know, that most of it was my fault, I was the one who said things 'n did things I shouldn't"

"I'm not being nice … it wasn't your fault…"

"Yeah it was …. I had ….. I always had to prove I didn't need anyone, not even you …. Alright, especially not you, I had to make you wrong when you said I was acting like a kid …. 'n you was right .. I was …. But I had to win …"

"I know and I always knew how important it was to you to prove to the world that you didn't need anyone's help to be everything you wanted to be … especially didn't need my help … it was actually one of the things I loved about you … one of the many … but almost from the first moment all I ever wanted was to take care of you and I know I got that all wrong, I was fucking head over heels in love with you but I made a hell of a lot of mistakes trying to wrap you in cotton wool …. I didn't see until afterwards how it made you feel as if I didn't believe you could look after yourself …"

"I used to feel like a stupid kid who was desperate to show I was your equal … when I wasn't … even though I knew you wasn't trying to show me you was boss …. I made it into a competition and it wasn't, was it? But I … it was a … habit … … dunno … I was hurting …I didn't feel like I was good enough so kept trying to make you admit it was what you thought as well, I was trying to hurt you back"

"Believe me it worked … but Molly, all that … I can't tell you how sorry I am …"

"I know …. But like I said, it was me not you"

"No it wasn't only you ….. after we went to shit and I was on my own I had a hell of a lot of time to think about everything and how it had gone wrong and I could see just how bloody unfair I'd been ... and how so few of the things that seemed important enough to cause a row actually mattered in the slightest ... I regretted every single stupid …. argument we'd ever had …" He was tugging at his bloody hair again "Getting on with my life wasn't easy … all I could think about was your angry little face and the number of times you ended up in tears, my Dawsey, who used to pride herself on being hard as nails … and it was my fault, I'd made you cry …"

"Nice … you saying you remembered me for my snot-fest"

"Yup … tried everything I knew to put all of it … you, me… us … your snot-fest, the whole bloody thing behind me …"

"What …. by putting it about … being a bit of a tart?"

"That's not exactly how I'd describe it … sorry … did you really think I was going to be a monk?"

"Nah …. of course not …...alright I never really thought, but … yeah…"

"I wish I'd never bloody told you now ….. I'm never going to be allowed to forget it, am I?"

"Nah …"

"Lovely …." He snorted this little laugh but I think it was mainly a little tinge of being a bit embarrassed, or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part.

"Then, when I saw you again … it all came flooding back … three bloody long years ...and nothing had changed, nothing at all, you were still … I still wanted to be the one to make you happy, it was still the only thing that seemed to matter to me"

"Really?" I knew exactly what I wanted him to say "You saying you still loved me when you came back?"

"Nope, that's not exactly what I'm saying …"

Oh bum, mind you that serves me right for asking and thinking I knew what the answer was going to be, well for doing a bit of fishing really.

He sighed like he'd suddenly got all the worries of the world on him, he was beginning to sound a bit like he wished he hadn't started it.

"Alright … yup … I suppose that is pretty much the way it was … it certainly didn't take very long did it?"

And suddenly it didn't matter that this wasn't the little dream I used to have when I couldn't stop thinking about how stupid I'd been and would conjure up this picture of us sitting at that same table in the restaurant, me in my grey and white dress, which magically fitted again without being too tight, with my hair all shiny and straight and him smiling at me as he fell in love with me all over again. I never expected it to be me sitting on the sofa in my pyjamas looking like seven shades of shit and feeling I could do with a good going over with a duster and Mr Sheen.

My hair's not exactly the silky, shiny styled to fuck barnet either, it's a tangled bloody bird's nest and my eyes are all gritty and sore, probably got attractive red rims because of hardly having any sleep for what feels about a week. And my diet went to shit in Abu Dhabi when I saw the food in the hotel, still it wouldn't make any odds how many diets I went on, nothing is going to make me seventeen-foot tall with the build of a bloody broom handle, is it? I'd need to grow about a foot for a start and I can't even get my size 10 jeans done up. I've got wobbly bits.

I'm not sure if Charles and me can ever get back to being easy together the way we used to be. Everything got fucking ruined and I don't know if it's going to stay that way.

"All of it, all those rows, it all seems such a waste of time, it all feels very stupid now"

"Yeah …good practice for choking off pushy red-heads though"

He shook his head and snorted a little laugh like he was being made to laugh in spite of himself, which was strange, it wasn't even that funny, mentioning her had just been me being a bit jealous.

"Stop taking the piss, I was being serious"

"I know, so was I … ish…"

"….. ish? … What the fuck does that mean?"

"You know what it means, it means …. _ish_"

"Come on, I think you've definitely been awake far too long"

"Yeah … think I better … get off … back to bed"

That smile of his is so bloody sexy, it's been knocking me sideways from the first time he ever smiled at me, probably like it's done to countless other women since then. And before. It doesn't matter what he's bad at, he's always be bloody good at it, it wasn't only his _sexy enough to be illegal _body that first made me fancy him something rotten, it was that smile that started the butterfly dance party in my guts.

He was still smiling when he wiped under my eye with his thumb, probably trying to get rid of specks of mascara that escaped when I'd sort of whacked some cleanser on my gob earlier, but then he stroked my hair back and moved to cup his fingers under my chin, and just looked at me without saying anything. Those eyes like melting chocolate were turning me into mush inside as he seemed to be trying to commit me to memory before he just leaned forward and gently brushed his lips over mine which sent my guts plunging down to the basement in a fast lift. He leaned back, maybe waiting out to make sure I wasn't going to punch him, before he really, really kissed me. His kiss was exactly the way I remember, it got harder and harder as he slowly slid his hands down my arms and then put his arms round trapping mine by my sides as he literally pinned me up against him. And all I wanted was more. I wanted it to go on forever. I thought I'd done a pretty good job of making myself forget, but it turned out I hadn't, his skin tastes the same and it feels the same when those long fingers of his graze over my ribcage and slide slowly down my sides. I've always loved his hands, you know that, almost as much as I love his bum, those long fingers of his that have always known exactly how to touch me to turn me into this squirming helpless mess. Those same fingers that would curl over mine and hold my hand as though he was never going to let me go of me. But he had, hadn't he? Or rather we'd let go of each other and I hate that I know how much of that was my fault. I really wish I could forget it ever happened, but there are things we've still got to talk about, it's just I don't want to even think about them when all I want is to keep on kissing him. I want to close my eyes and carry on feeling the way I do when he brushes his lips against mine and makes the world around me disappear.

I can see exactly what he meant when he said it feels like coming home.

The way his hands are resting lightly at the bottom of my ribs was making me want to scream and ask him who the fuck said he could stop, not me that was for sure, but then he slipped them down to my waist and tightened his hold and I put my arms up round his neck and forgot I was mad at him. I twisted my fingers in his hair and gently stroked his skin, pretty bloody sure that unless he's changed into some other bloke entirely stroking him like that was one thing that would really get him going and I was right, well, knew I would be. His eyes snapped shut and he tilted his head to press it hard against my hands, and all I could think about was pulling him closer, I wanted to feel him everywhere.

And still neither of us were saying anything. All you could hear was breathing, I could suddenly hear myself puffing and blowing like some old crone with a forty a day habit and the way he was breathing like he'd just finished a 10k run, his breath getting more and ragged. It started hitching in his throat when his hands moved to the front of my waist and his fingertips slipped under my top, which did nothing at all to help my breathing, believe me if I'd sounded bad before it was nothing to how I sounded when his fingertips were on my naked skin and he took hold of the bottom of my tank and pulled it up over my head.

"I have been wanting to do that ever since you started torturing me"

He chucked it behind him onto the sofa as his warm breath against my ear lifted and ruffled all the little hairs and his low growly voice made me go all shivery inside.

"I was not … I wasn't torturing you …"

"Believe me, that was torture" He didn't let go of my face, just kept smiling that sexy smile of his "It was hard keeping my hands off you"

"Thought you was supposed to be an officer and a gentleman?"

"Who told you that? And it was your fault, it's impossible for me to be a gentleman when you walk around wearing that …" He kissed a trail down my neck and then held me away from him for a second and blatantly let his eyes wander over me.

"Oi …. Stop it …"

"When you tell me that this is your answer"

"To what? … dunno why, seem to be a bit distracted somehow … what was the question again?"

"Molly …. that's not funny …"

"Neither is what you're doing, that's just plain … something or other … pervy"

"No it's not … it's me appreciating exactly how beautiful you are ….. and you know precisely what I want to know …. I want to know if you want to try again …. if you're going to come back to me"

"I'll think about it"

I don't know why I'd got this sudden feeling of being all self-conscious, it's not like it's anything he hasn't seen before is it? But I had this real urge to put my arms round myself and cover my tits. Maybe because it just felt funny being all naked from the waist up with him with all his clothes on.

"You haven't said if it's what you want" He hasn't, has he? He keeps saying stuff, but he hasn't actually said that, not that I've heard anyway.

"Of course I have, you know perfectly well that it's exactly what I do want" He was obviously starting to get ever so slightly twitchy "And for fuck sake please don't start talking about bloody cats again"

"Alright … no need to shout … is this you trying to persuade me?"

"I wasn't shouting …. And yup …is it working?"

"Tell you what, try a little bit harder … that might work"

"You know, you really are pushing your luck, Mrs James, are you going to stop laughing any time soon?"

He'd still got that brilliant smile on his face but it's beginning to look a little bit strained, and then he raked his teeth over his bottom lip and trapped it before beginning to drop little butterfly kisses on the corners of my mouth, moving from one side to the other in between every word. Which just made me want to giggle even more. Not that there was anything even remotely funny, I was just finding it hard to ignore all the feelings that were bubbling up inside me. Happy feelings. A second chance that I really didn't think I was ever going to get.

He was blinking hard, obviously still trying to look serious but it looked like it was getting a bit difficult for him to keep a straight face when I couldn't stop my stupid giggling.

"Molly …. Tell me, are you going to stop playing games any time soon?"

"Yeah … I'm trying … I know …. sorry can't seem to help it"

"Sorry? That's not going to cut it I'm afraid"

"What will?"

"If I could hear you say you're very fond of me … that would be lovely … or even better that you still love me and don't want a divorce, that you'd rather try again and see if we can get it right this time"

"Okay … how about … ditto to all of them?"

"Sorry …. Ditto? Did you just say ditto?"

"Yeah… "

That's it, Moll, spend a whole load of time thinking about all the shit from before and how you're going to be sensible and grown up and remember why it's a bad idea and why it was such a fucking disaster last time, and that there was a good reason things went to shit. And how you really mustn't do anything stupid and jump in with both bloody feet. And then go and do and say the exact opposite. It's just sometimes when I'm with him I hear my mouth saying stuff I never meant to say out loud and I'm not going to lie, I do want to try again, I do want him back, of course I do, even when I kept telling him I didn't love him and that I was sorry I'd married him and wanted him to go away and leave me alone to live my own life, I never stopped loving him.

And then that was it, no need for anything else, his eyes were so dark they looked almost black when he pulled me against him and started to kiss me the way I'd wanted him to kiss me ever since the moment he'd turned up out of the blue and turned my bloody life upside down.

-OG-

Something I really had forgotten what it was like to run my hands down over his back and pull his shirt off over his head and hear him groan and gulp when my naked chest was up against his, my skin against his skin as I ran my hands over that beautiful bum of his. And then running my greedy little mitts up and over it as I stroked round to his hip bones then let my thumbs rest in the hollows by the side of his abs. Tell you what, wouldn't have taken a genius to work out how that affected him and how much he wanted me to move my hands to touch him. I didn't try to get his joggers or his boxers off, there was no hurry was there? Alright I admit I was just enjoying how much he was enjoying me touching him and hearing just how ragged his breathing was and the look of pure lust that was on his face. Mind you, I'm pretty sure I had the same look on mine.

"Put me down … what you doing?"

"Stop kicking me … I think it's time we took this somewhere more comfortable … but if you kick me we might both end up being sorry …"

"I'm not kicking you …. I'm just trying to make you put me down, I'm too bloody heavy for you to carry me, you might drop me"

"Don't be ridiculous… you're not heavy … not that heavy anyway"

"Oi … you bleeding asking to get kicked?"

"You are not in the least bit heavy, you are perfect as you are, as you know only too well, and I am not going to drop you … well, not unless you keep kicking me like that" He put his head back and laughed "You keep that up and I might have to put you over my knee, Mrs James"

"Like to see you try…"

"Was that a challenge? Sounded like a challenge to me …"

"Nah, nah … wasn't …. sorry, sorry … didn't mean it….."

"I thought you told me once that spanking is sexy"

"ME? Nah, never … not me"

Think I did, actually. I can sort of vaguely remember reading this tatty copy of 50 Shades I'd liberated from Bella, well, when I say reading it, it actually kept falling open on certain pages and I'd read them. He'd asked me what the book was and what it was about, but I hadn't got a bloody scoobie, had I? I'd only read the sexy bits where the book had fallen open so I made something up which included a bit of spanking because everyone knew 50 shades was about that, didn't they?

"Yes you did …. And I'd forgotten just how bloody beautiful you are when you tell fibs …." He started to kiss this little path across my collar bones that have this incredibly annoying habit of going a nice bright blotchy pink whenever I tell porkies.

"I'm not …. And you're not so bad yourself … you didn't exactly hit the ugly tree very often, did you?"

"Thank you …I think … but I don't tell fibs …"

"I know …. Boring or what?"

"If I'm that boring, what are you laughing at? Is that another challenge?"


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: A little light reading for a Sunday afternoon which I hope you will enjoy. I have spent a lot of time editing and doing my best to keep on the right side of the restrictions on content that would have meant this going on the 'M' side, euphemisms 'r us! **_

_**Thank you so much for all the kind feedback for Chapter 10, and to the people who've messaged me about Accidental Consequences, I have every intention of going back to it when I have finished this, which is not quite yet, but I am hopeless at working on 2 things at once … I end up doing more deleting than anything else … thanks as always to Flossie for her encouragement and her love of black boxers! **_

-OG-

_**You Say It Best When You Say Nothing At All **_

Listen, I don't know if I've already said but if I haven't then you've probably worked out for yourself by now that I'm a bit out of practice. All I'm hoping is that what _they _say is right, although I don't know who _they _are exactly, but that they're right when they say it doesn't matter how long it's been, that it's a bit like riding a bike and you don't ever forget. Well not exactly like riding a bike of course, but you know what I mean. It's been so bloody long now I'm practically a born-again virgin these days, even my little dabble with a chipolata feels like a long time back now and that was nothing to write home about was it? To be honest, I can't help being a bit bloody nervous. Totally ridiculous behaviour. I mean, it's not like I haven't before, and it's not like I'm going to have sex for the first time with someone I don't really know, we know everything there is to know about each other, used to anyway, and even without that I've spent the best part of three years missing him. But that doesn't stop this little bit of me being shit-scared what's going to happen if it turns out a big disappointment. Things have changed, well for him more than me, and if the worst happens and it's a disaster it's not like I can just say _please could you sod off now, I've changed my mind_, is it?

Before I ever met him, I was _me_, and I was a survivor even if my life was a bit shit sometimes, and then it was _we,_ and I was dead happy, well I was until I started going out of my way to push him away for some reason, then I was _me _again and back to doing my best to survive on my own again, just getting on with it and I really don't know if I'm ready for it to be _we _again now. I'm actually beginning to wonder if I'm ever going to be ready again.

"Hey … come on what's wrong? Tell me … what's that look on your face about?"

Fuck, how the fuckety fuck does he always manage to do that? Why is it he can read my bloody mind when no other bugger has ever come close?

"I'm fine …. just a little bit tired that's all"

When it had all gone to shit there used to be these moments between me opening my eyes when I would feel everything was all normal, and then me waking up properly and remembering what a horrible fucking mess I'd made of it all. I'd have to get straight up out of bed because there was no way I could just lie there on my own, it felt all wrong somehow. The bed was too big and empty and lonely, suppose it reminded me too much of everything I'd lost, or thrown away, and then I'd want to bawl all over again and I was bloody pig sick of doing that. And I was tired of looking in the mirror and seeing all these dark circles and bags under my eyes, I hated that I looked as if I'd died a long time ago but had just got dug up.

Sometimes it would feel like those few minutes between waking up and remembering was all that was getting me through it. But I got over all of that, didn't I? And now I can't help worrying this is going to turn out to be like that and I'm going to wake up in the morning and see it's just one of them things you do, but that it isn't my normal anymore. And I know I laughed and took the piss, but what he said earlier, it wasn't like he'd exactly gone without was it? Alright maybe it was a while back now and maybe it wasn't exactly through choice that I'd been a nun and if I had any sense at all I'd definitely be more bothered about him and Amber, but it's just I hate that while I was at home tearing myself to bits, that's what he was doing.

"Come on, come and get into bed then … but … I wish you'd tell me what's wrong Moll, I can see there's something"

"It's just … look, its nothing, it's just .. I know I'm probably being a prannet 'n that, but ..what if all this .." I sort of waved my hand about in between the two of us "What if it's going to be like before?"

"No that's not being a prannet, it's important" Oh bloody hell he really is going to be bald if he tugs his hair much more, I want to put my hand over his and tell him to pack it in "You know .. I love you and I think you love me and I really think we should give us another chance … but even if I made all the promises in the world right now it wouldn't make a scrap of difference, would it? We did that before and then found out the hard way that promises are not guarantees"

"Are you being a bit sappy?"

"Yup … but ..I mean it Moll … I tried to convince myself once before that we were better off apart, but being without you was total shit and I know I'll probably annoy the fuck out of you by doing the same things I did before and I can't help that, I'll always want to take care of you, it's what makes me happy, but it doesn't mean I don't think you can take care of yourself, I know you can and one thing I do promise is that you'll never have to prove anything to me" He was running his hand over his hair again "The other night … you were standing there in that black dress of yours…" He suddenly grinned and shook his head as if he was remembering "You looked bloody gorgeous, and then _…. and then_ .. you fucking told me you were off to some fucking party and that there was no need for me to wait up because you might not be coming home" The grin was gone as he chewed at the corner of his lip and shook his head again, it was as if he was trying to remember it exactly right "Have you got any idea how much I wanted to stop you going anywhere at all … I badly wanted to lock you in and not let you out of my sight"

"Stop it … you never"

"You'd better believe it"

"Not sure I do .. you never even said I looked nice, just … _tall,_ and anyway you were off out yourself and I bloody knew where you was going, that's why I said … what I said …. And you did stop the night with her just after you got back, didn't you?" Shit, what the actual fuck was I doing, it was like I was going out of my way to remind him of what it was like to sleep with her?

"Yup, you're right, I did go and see her, I hadn't seen her since before Kenya … but I didn't _sleep_ with her Molly_ … _I hadn't had a drink for, well, since Kenya either and I ended up drinking more wine than was good for me and ended up falling asleep on her sofa … I didn't want be there with her, I couldn't get this picture out of my head of you waving that bloody great big knife of yours around and offering to feed me Brocolli ….and promising not to spit in it" He made this little snorting noise, as if he was trying not to laugh "I couldn't stop thinking that I was in the wrong place, but she wasn't very impressed, can't say I blame her actually and I know it was a big part of what made her come round to check you out"

"Just as well I didn't know about all the rest when I had that knife in me hand, wasn't it? Might have started cutting things off"

"What does that mean or shouldn't I ask?"

"You know .. stopped you putting it about … being on Tinder"

"TINDER? For fuck sake Moll … who said anything about Tinder? Fuck … Never …" He shook his head as though he didn't know whether to laugh or get offended "And I wasn't putting it about … you know, if ever I've regretted anything it was not keeping my bloody mouth shut, I certainly didn't mean to upset you … it was just some stupid dick move on my part trying to prove I wasn't hiding anything"

"Is that what you're sorry for then, telling me?"

"Indeed, but I'm sorry about all of it …. we all do things we regret sometimes, sleep with people we wish we hadn't, and I know we've had this conversation before, but this time I'm talking about me not you …. hurting you was the very last thing I intended"

"What? You think I'm bothered?"

"Yup … well I can see you are and I'm sorry … If I could go back and change it I would"

I know, I know what was the bloody point in that? Stupid. Talking about it and letting him see how much I minded and then pretending I didn't care, why did I even think of lying?

"Jacs says Tinder should be called _Deliveroo for a bit of dick"_

"Lovely … that sounds like the Jacs I remember… how is she?"

"Alright …..well, far as I know, haven't seen her for a while … long story … and stop trying to change the subject, I'd spent all day out shopping for a new dress and then you, you cheeky bugger, you said it was a _nightie_"

Actually, it was me who was doing my best to try and change the subject. Talking about his sex life the way we had was almost certainly going to end up with one or probably both of us saying things I'd be sorry about and there'd be a real danger it would end up with me watching him walk away again. I didn't want that, especially not over something he couldn't go back and change. And he was right about that, he couldn't.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you then either, it was my stupid idea of a joke … and you know you didn't look nice in your dress, you looked bloody beautiful … and … _tall, _ there was so much I wanted to say to you I couldn't think where to even start … but you're right, I did have to go and see Amber, I had to make sure she knew there wasn't a fucking snowball's chance in hell of her having any sort of future with me …" He snorted another little laugh "I still would have locked you in if I'd thought I could get away with it"

"Nah you wouldn't"

"Wouldn't I? Don't bet on it …. And then after a lovely couple of hours listening to Amber list all my many faults … I came home to an evening of waiting to see if you were going to come home … still at least when you showed up I knew you were on your own, judging from the language when you fell over the chair in the hall…"

"Stupid place to leave it"

"Oh, without a doubt … and it's only been there since before you moved in"

"Yeah … well, forgot .. I was a bit stressed, had a bit of a falling out with Al so might just have been a little bit distracted"

Okay, it wasn't exactly what had happened, I know that. I'd got well and truly plastered before I'd even gone anywhere near Al, and then I'd behaved a little bit badly, but if you want my opinion honesty is sometimes a bit over-rated.

"Stressed?"

"Yeah _stressed _… what's so funny about that? Okay, I admit I might not have been at my very best when I got in …. but that was your fault 'n all …"

"Of course it was … no question"

"Poor Al"

"Don't start that again"

"Not starting anything … just saying that's all"

"Well don't" He'd gone from laughing at me to sounding a bit like I do when I want someone to shut the fuck up about something but don't want to have to explain exactly why I don't want to hear what they're saying "When you said ditto earlier …did you mean it?"

"Course"

"Good … I know we're going to get it right this time Moll, we're going to take our time and make sure we're doing everything properly, there's absolutely no rush, we've got all the time in the world haven't we?"

"Yeah, course, but ... I mean, isn't that what we did before? I thought we did … it was just we didn't know we was fucking it up … until we'd … fucked it up … and stop bleeding laughing at me"

"I'm not laughing, wouldn't dream of it"

"Yeah you are, and anyway, what does that mean _take our time_? It's been three bloody years and that's long enough, innit? And before we start doing everything … different … waiting out 'n that, I think we should check we're still what do you call it? _Compatible…_ I mean, we might not be now, who knows, I mean everything might have … changed?"

"Indeed …." I was beginning to have this nasty little suspicion he wasn't actually taking this all that seriously "You may very well have an excellent point there, Mrs James … we should always be aware of the danger of that being a possibility, so yup, think I make you right, it would probably be a wise move to check it out before we go any further"

Suddenly I knew without a shadow of a doubt from the way he was trying to hide his smirk that he was just messing, he was taking the bloody piss, wasn't he?

"You bugger … that's not a bit funny"

"Yep it definitely was … you should have seen your face …."

"Serve you right if I hold you to it now"

"You don't mean that …"

"Might"

I'm not sure who pounced on who first, one minute we're lying side by side but a few feet apart with him propped up on his elbow and me with my head on the pillow looking up at him as we talked all civilised and the next we're both sort of trying to grab hold of each other to stop the other one being able to tickle. And then he was so close I could feel the whisper of his breath on my lips, and I could smell the wine mixed a little bit with the coffee he'd had earlier as he slammed his mouth over mine. There was nothing soft or gentle about the way he kissed the life out of me, or the way his kiss forced me to open my mouth, not that I needed much forcing, or the way he gripped me as though he couldn't get close enough.

And the more we kissed the more difficult it was to even bloody think straight. I'd never really thought about kissing being dangerous before, but it was making parts of my heart that had been slammed shut for three very long years crave him, alright it might not have been my heart exactly, might just possibly have been somewhere a bit lower than that, but I had this huge pulsing ache for him racing through me. If I was being totally honest I might be going to have to admit that it had been there somewhere ever since he came back, much as I'd been trying hard to ignore the need I had to touch him and the way I had been struggling to do everything to shut my brain off when I was around him. I'd had to keep telling myself that it was just memories that were unsettling. But somewhere inside I'd known all along that ending up in bed with him had been somehow sort of inevitable.

I loved all the little groaning noises I could hear him making when I slipped my fingers down inside his joggers and ran them lightly over his bum before I let them sort of drift up to his hips, then slipped them inside those boxers of his to try and get them off in one go with his joggers. Before, when I used to watch him walk round wearing them I used to think those black stretchy boxers of his were the most incredibly sexy things I could think of, the way they clung to every bit of him, especially when he had an erection, and you know what, nothing's changed. Except it didn't matter how hard I tried to wriggle and shuffle I couldn't quite push the bloody things down his legs just using my feet so that in the end I had to stop kissing him long enough to use my hands to get the bastard things off. Which wasn't exactly the smooth seductive move I'd been aiming for, still got to say It didn't seem to bother him as much as it did me.

"Sorry …. out of practice …"

"Good … bloody glad to hear it" His voice was all gruff and growly and needy making it obvious to me that he didn't give a shit.

And then he was muttering under his breath and stroking me with those long fingers and I hadn't forgotten anything at all about how it felt or how quickly he could turn me into this squirming needy mess especially when his fingers were followed by a trail of tiny little butterfly kisses. Or how it felt when he cupped my tits in his hands and then bent to put my nipple in his mouth.

"You are the most beautiful .."

He grazed his teeth over them, first one and then the other and sent all these little darts of pleasure straight to the right spot and then slipped his fingers inside my shorts to slide them down over my hips. And then we were skin to skin. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to, he just pulled me hard against him and then held me tight and I'd bloody forgotten what it's like to have every bit of my skin against his and to be so close that the only way we could get any closer would be if I could crawl inside his skin with him. Which I would have done if I could.

"Molly … Listen …. we don't have to if you're not sure …."

"What? Oh yeah we do, we bloody well do …"

Oh Fuck. Fuckety fucking fuck. He's not going to change his mind now is he? It's a bit bloody late for that, surely? Please not that.

"Yep, yes you're right … we do…"

Oh thank fuck for that.

"Don't do that to me"

"Sorry … I just wanted to be 100% sure you're happy with this … and that I'm not going to get my face slapped"

"Bloody will if you do that again"

He caught hold of my hand where I was sort of waving it about sort of threatening I was going to slap him or pretending to and held it over my head, then began to growl when I retaliated by lifting my head and licking first his bottom lip and then the top one. His eyelids were all hooded and he was breathing as if it didn't matter how hard he tried he couldn't get enough oxygen as I ran my hands over the muscles of his shoulders, and then his biceps and ran them down his chest to the tight ridges of his stomach before I let my fingers drift down to his groin. His body is still the same as it was when I first used to watch him work out, he's still as lean and hard as he was although I used to have to imagine what that little line of hair down his stomach led to. But now as I palmed him and then ran my thumb over the beads of moisture that had appeared his kisses were getting harder and hotter and were beginning to feel just a tiny bit frantic the way I remember they always used to be. It wouldn't have taken a bloody genius to work out how much he already wanted me and that was without any encouragement from my hand, not that that stopped me moving it on him, did it? I wanted to touch him, I wanted him to know that I wanted him to want me as badly as I wanted him, and believe me the way he was kissing me was making me want him so much it was fast getting to a point where there was nothing else would be anywhere near enough. Especially when he began to kiss up the inside of my thigh and the feel of his stubble on my skin was making my hips do this little dance of their own. But then I felt it all change a bit, and knew from how gentle he was being all of a sudden that he was trying his best to slow things down a bit, maybe because he thought it was all going to be over too quick. But the more he touched me and the more I could smell him, the more I didn't want to wait and I wound my legs round his hips the wiggled around until he was just the teeniest, tiniest fraction away from where I wanted him.

"Look at me Molly, open your eyes"

I don't know what my eyes were like when he looked at them but his pupils were bloody huge and the colour of bitter chocolate and the more I strained towards him and kept touching him the darker they got until they looked almost black and he gave in and stopped trying to slow it down. He moved very gently and slow at first, quite obviously trying to take his time to make sure I was okay, but I didn't need him to go slowly, I was desperate to show him, to tell him without words that I wanted him to move harder and deeper and faster. And then when he started to do that, we both got completely lost in his rhythm and it was just exactly the way I remembered, all the feelings that I'd missed so much came flooding back. I wanted to shout out, think I might have actually, I'm not too sure to be honest, and although he probably isn't the only bloke in the entire world could make me feel as much if they ever got half a chance, no-one else has ever even got close. He's the only one who's ever been able to make me feel as if I'm his. Or that he's mine.

Then his rhythm changed and every little bit of me focussed on this tiny little flame that was beginning to flicker deep inside me, a flame that got steadily bigger and brighter and hotter until it was building into a blaze of sensation and was all I could think about. Every cell, every little bit of me seemed to be holding its breath and waiting out, until I fell over the edge in an explosion of feelings, sensations that were tearing through every bit of me, tremors that seemed to be lasting forever.

Coming back down to earth took me a little while, it had been such a long time for me but soon as I started to calm down I could tell how hard he was finding it to just keep still for me, to control all these little involuntary movements and I knew just how close he was. I could feel how swollen and heavy his balls were and how tight they were up against me.

"If I need to stop, if I need to pull out you have to tell me right now"

His voice was low and gruff and sounded like he was having to grit his teeth and try to hang on, but personally I couldn't help thinking it was probably a bit late for that anyway, but instead of saying anything I just did that thing Tigger had kept banging on about, the one that Claire and me had been a bit giggly over on the bus going home, and I tightened my core muscles round him in the way she'd said would make us thank her for one day. I don't know about me, but I think he might. He took this sudden sharp breath in and then thrust as hard and as deep as he could as the waves of sensations started taking him over and then he lifted his head and yelled my name as spasms of pleasure began tearing through him.

I'd forgotten just what it's like to hold him tight afterwards and to feel his shivers when I stroke my hands over his back. I'd forgotten how much I love to keep holding onto him while his breathing goes back to normal and his heart stops trying to bang its way out of his chest, and the way he tucks me under the duvet when we slowly stop being all hot and sweaty. The way he gets bothered that I might start feeling cold.

There's this big bit of me wants to tell him that I love him, but I probably won't, well, can't really, can I? Not unless he says it first and then I can do a ditto, it's been so long that if I do he's bound to think I'm just saying it now because we just had sex.

Which believe me is nothing like riding a bike.

"You okay?" He had this lovely smile on his face as he brushed a bit of my bird's nest hair away from my face and then kissed me all sort of tenderly as I put my hand up and stroked his cheek. Very gently.

"Oh yeah … never better" I couldn't help this little giggle of happy bubbling up and escaping "Are you?"

"Let me see now? I think _never better_ is perfect … and before you tell me you don't do perfect, you do… and you are" He started chewing at his bottom lip "Now come on, shift that perfect little arse of yours out of the bed and I'll straighten it … and then I'll sleep on the wet patch"

"Yeah you will …. Can I have my rings back now please? You know, if you're gonna sleep in here"

He was shaking his head and had the biggest smirk on his face, so I could see I wasn't the only one who had happy bubbling up inside.

"God, I love you, Mrs James"

"Ditto" Oh good that meant I could say it without looking as if it was just one of the things you say after sex "Well … I'm quite fond of you 'n all" His eyebrows went shooting up as if he wasn't sure he'd heard right, or as if he wasn't sure whether I was just messing "Love you too"


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Thank you so much for all your kind reviews and comments and for sticking with this even though it's taken a while to get this chapter out. Just hope that you enjoy it and that it's not too long, I have a problem telling myself when to stop. And thank you as always to Flossy for her unfailing support and for the well-timed kick up the bum when she thinks I'm prevaricating.**_

_**-OG-**_

_**In the Land Of Make Believe**_

I did think I'd sleep, really believed all the worry over Ron and being so on edge about not fucking anything up meant I was bound to, even without all the travelling and then the bleeding relief when I got him and Marge home in one piece. And then Charles and me. It was a bleeding roller coaster, wasn't it? One minute I'm listening to him talk about Amber and him, and the next we're having sex, and now I'm lying here awake next to him sleeping and I'm not so bloody sure I know exactly what the fuck I've done. I mean I know what I've _done,_ don't mean that exactly, but fuck, I mean, FUCK. If Nan knew she'd be saying it was bloody typical of me, you know, not thinking anything through, jumping in with both bloody feet and then trying to pretend it was no big deal. But it is, it's a bloody big deal. And it's no good pretending we used our magic wands and everything was suddenly right, because it doesn't work like that. I've got to look at it properly and decide what it is I actually do want, although with my luck I can't be sure all the shit is not going to come roaring back to bite me on my bum no matter what.

Lying next to him I can't even explain to myself why I'm so worried, why I can't just take a deep breath and let myself be happy as I wait to see what happens. Why the fuck do I have to keep running the '_what if' _questions over and over in my head? The bloody daft thing about it is if you'd asked me a couple of weeks back I'd have said being back with him was exactly what I did want, ever since he'd re-appeared and I'd realised just how much I'd bloody missed him, I'd wanted him back in any way I could get him. At least that's what I thought, but now it looks like I might have got what I wanted, I'm not so bloody sure. I'm not worried about not loving him enough, I feel exactly like I used to, but all this is going a bit bloody quick for me. It feels horribly like before, that we're rushing into something all over again, and it could fall to shit just as quickly as it did then. Alright I admit it, I'm scared, I don't know how all this is going to work.

To be honest it was weird waking up in the same bed with him, it's been so long, actually it's been a bloody long time since I slept in the same bed as anyone, let alone him, well anyone that wasn't my mum. And I'd forgotten how hot he is in bed, I don't mean sexy, well he's that and all, but body heat hot, it's like sleeping with your own personal furnace. When I opened my eyes and saw his head on the pillow next to mine, his hair all messy and curly and his chin all dark with stubble, I thought for a minute I was still asleep and dreaming. I really did think I'd conjured him up from somewhere in my imagination. Again. But then the wiry hairs on his legs were tickling mine where they were all sort of tangled up together and the way his legs and his bony feet were trapping mine and were stopping me moving them away meant I knew it wasn't a dream. Neither was me being so boiling bloody hot. I was sweating like a pig, far too hot to just stay there all tangled up with him like that. But didn't mean to disturb him. I thought I was being really careful how I moved my legs out from under his and shuffled my bum to my side of the bed where it was a bit cooler, although I suppose I couldn't actually swear there wasn't a bit of accidental on purpose in there somewhere.

Funny how quick you go back to thinking about having your own sides of the bed, innit?

"Hey"

I'd been watching him sleep, had just been looking at his face and getting the usual shock at how much younger he looks when he's asleep, when all the creases on his face have been ironed out and I hadn't even noticed him waking up. And him putting the light on like that with no warning meant it hurt my eyes as well as giving me a bloody shock, made me jump out of my skin.

"You made me jump … sorry, did I wake you up? Didn't mean to … sorry"

"No need, you didn't wake me"

His voice was all hoarse and croaky but I could hear his smile as he lied and then rolled over on his back and stretched, before he turned back to look at me again. As usual he was bloody wide awake immediately he opened his eyes, wasn't he? I think it's a bit of a legacy from all the years of always having to be ready to sort any problems, I was the same myself for a bit, but I've got over it now, thanks very much. I can sleep in with the best of them. He was biting at his bottom lip as he put his hand across and stroked the hair back off my face and tucked it behind my ear.

"What the fuck are you doing all the way over there? Oh God, don't tell me I stink … I need a shower, don't I?"

"Yeah …. Nah, course you don't .. if there's anyone's minging round here, think it's me not you"

"No you don't … you smell wonderful"

"Don't lie, I do not, I'm all sweaty and … smelly … I was too hot and I bloody smell of sex … and of you … I'm the one needs a shower"

"Oh good, we'll share"

"Ha ha ..funny man"

"Who said I was joking?" I could hear the chuckle in his voice "Why aren't you asleep, come on, what's the matter? Don't tell me you're still worrying about, whatshisname, Ron and his wife?"

"Marge, her name's Marge like me Nan … and nah … I'm not worrying about them … not really worrying about anything … there's nothing wrong, I just woke up, that's all, told you … I was too hot .. you go back to sleep, 'n I'll probably get off again in a minute"

Oh fuck, I really don't want to talk things to death, not now, I don't even know what I want him to say exactly, it's just it's a lot to think about. In the space of a couple of weeks we've gone from it being all over and done with, from hating each other and both of us saying we want to get on with our lives and make it legal, get a divorce and that, agreeing there was no way back from us fucking it all up. Then not being able to keep our hands off one another. For fuck sake, one minute I'm really pissed at him, spitting mad and the next we're in bed together having frantic sex and talking about being happy ever after. I'm not sure now how that even happened. And I don't know what to say to him. All I know is when he had his arms round me cuddling me when we were getting off to sleep, the sound of his heart beating away in his chest made me feel unbelievably happy, warm and comfortable and sort of safe, and yeah, happy. I'm pretty sure that he's always going to be the one who does it for me, and I still fancy him every bit as much as I did before, it's the rest of it worries me. I mean, don't suppose there's much chance of keeping it secret is there? Of not having to tell anyone, at least not his mum or my lot, and not having to sort out all the legal shit about his house, or his mum's house or whoever owns the bleeding thing. All I know is that it's not mine, and I don't want it to be. I don't want any part of it. Sorry Dad. I know it's a nice place and that, but it's not for me, not what I want, I can't think of anything worse than having to live there with his mum and listen to her snipe about me being common. I can hear her now going ape-shit about it being me that's back in the family and not sodding Amber. I've got a feeling she likes the posh red-headed harpie far more than she likes me, not that that would be exactly hard, would it? In fact, I wouldn't mind betting she loves that posh stick insect almost as much as Ginger bloody Barbie loves herself.

All the people who knew us when we together think I'm free and single these days, and I haven't so much as hinted to anyone that I've even seen him, let alone that he's back living in the flat. Well, apart from Claire and she doesn't count. I don't have a clue what I'm going to say, how I'm going to tell them. I know, I shouldn't give a rat's bum what anyone else thinks, it's my life, well mine and his, and it's no-one's else's bleeding business. As Nan would say, if they don't like it they can bloody well lump it, but that doesn't mean I don't know what they'll be saying. But I'm not a bleeding soft touch for him and it's not true that he only has to lift his little finger for me to come running, I'm not weak or stupid where he's concerned, but that won't stop them saying that, will it? Especially my lot. I can hear my dad now calling me all sorts, saying I need a check-up from the neck up.

And there's all the other people who've never even heard of him, the ones that don't know I've ever been married, the friends I've made who don't know the me that was in the army, the girls at work and people like Al, they're going to think I'm some sort of massive bleeding liar, aren't they? I mean, I just don't know what the actual fuck I'm going to tell anyone.

"Don't give me that, come on talk to me, what's going on, Moll … what's the matter, why can't you sleep?"

"Nah, I can sleep, there's nothing … nothing's going on … anyway I was asleep … I told you, I was a bit hot that's all, nothing else"

Shit, shut up Molly. Bloody waffling on like that without your brain being engaged, he's going to know, isn't he? He knows you too well to believe you're not being all defensive because you're telling porkies.

"Nothing? Really? Is that right?" His eyebrows had gone shooting up "Well, I suppose if you say so .. but you know something Moll? It would be really nice if I could believe that …" His eyebrows were still up the top of his forehead "Talk to me … I can see there's something going on in that beautiful little head of yours … is it that you're regretting this …are you sorry … about us and … this? Just tell me if that's what it is, and don't think of lying to me, I can read you like a book"

"Nah you can't" Fuck, yeah he can "I'm not lying Charles, I mean why would I?" I'm not, not really, am I? "It was just I been thinking … yeah, yeah before you say anything I know, alright? I was … thi…. wondering what's gonna happen next, that's all"

"Next? There's definitely going to be a _next_ then_?_ That's good to know, Iwas beginning to worry"

"Yeah, course … well, yeah … I mean, if it's what you want"

Fuck, hadn't even crossed my mind that he might be having doubts about me being back, I was too busy thinking of me and whether it was what I wanted.

"Of course it is, it's exactly what I want … and right now what I want is you to shift your perfect little arse back over here and give me a cuddle, and we can see about getting some more sleep? Or do you want me to come over there?"

"That's not actually what I meant … not exactly …. I meant, you know … _after _… what is the time?"

"I've got absolutely no idea, all I know is it's not time to get up yet … ummm, after what exactly?"

"You know what I mean"

"Nope … I thought I was just about to get very lucky again …"

"Did you? Stop changing the subject and answer me" I think he could be right actually "'n stop being a sleaze"

"Me? A sleaze? Rubbish … well … let me see now, after we get some more sleep, we can do whatever it is you want to do, we can go and see about arranging for some cats if you like"

"What? …Oh yeah, aright, good plan …" My giggle was a bit of a snort to be honest "You know what, you might be bloody sorry you said that … Muppet"

"Are you telling me you're not serious? Because if that was what you wanted, I'd happily put up with it, I'd learn to live with all the itching and the sneezing and the sore eyes and …."

"Have you finished overdoing the bleeding martyr bit?"

"You're heartless … we will have to go shopping at some point though because last time I looked there was no bloody food in the house … or you can make a list and I'll go … as long as you don't expect me to get Brocolli.. not buying that on principle"

"You don't know what's good for you"

"Oh I do …. Believe me I do … And that's bloody rich coming from the girl who eats chocolate for breakfast … anyway who said Brocolli is good for you?"

"Can't wait for you to meet Kelli … and it is bloody good for you, chocolate is as well, gives you energy … and Brocolli gives you stamina ….or something …. especially when you're, you know, getting on a bit"

"WHAT did you just say? _Getting on a bit_? And who the fuck is Kelli?" He was trying hard to sound offended "And I'll have you know there's nothing wrong with my stamina, haven't had any complaints"

"If you say so… and Kelli is just someone I know"

"I didn't notice you complaining earlier either … okay, I've got a better idea, why don't we forget all about it and stay right where we are and I can show you just how good my stamina is for a bloke my age … and we can get take-away if we're hungry"

I'd forgotten how much it shows in his voice when he smirks, how you can tell just how happy he is without even looking at him.

"What? Catch up on our sleep you mean? You gotta be careful at your age"

"Indeed"

He stopped laughing and put his hand over to stroke my ratty hair back off my face, and then smoothed it down and began to fiddle with the ends, winding it round his fingers to turn into ringlets.

"It's one of the things that used to worry me a lot you know, the difference in our ages, I've always known I was probably far too bloody old for you, and that was before Dave spelled it out for me, eight years is a lot, Molly, and sometimes it felt like eighty"

"Stop it … you know you're not bad for an old bloke … and you don't need to change anything about your stamina, I was just messing" Oh bloody hell, what the fuck had my dad said to him that he hadn't told me about? "I didn't mean anything, it was s'posed to be a joke … you're not too old and if you say you are then that means I'm too young for you and I'm not"

"No you're not, you're perfect"

"No I'm not .."

"I'm not going to argue with you … I'm right and you're going to take my word for it, okay? Now come here and make me feel better"

"Make _you_ feel better … why … and how exactly?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something"

I actually don't think I want to do anymore talking, I've suddenly got a much better idea what I want to do, but he's gone all serious on me.

"Listen Moll … are you sure that everything's okay with us? Because if you're not happy, if you've got any doubts at all you need to tell me"

"You sound like you're the one not sure"

"Me? Oh no, I'm sure, I couldn't be more sure about anything"

He was still stroking the ends of my hair where it was spread all over the pillow, but somehow I seemed to be lying underneath him now.

"The other day, when I came back from my run and found you cooking bacon in the kitchen" He did this little chuckle and kissed me on my nose "Complete with a Dawsey hang-over, it was … it felt as if I was coming home to everything I ever wanted, apart separate beds … although I knew you weren't interested"

"Whatever made you think that? You should of asked me"

"Oh fuck now she tells me"

"You said you wanted us to be divorced but still be friends"

"Did I? When did I say something as stupid as that?"

"You should listen to yourself when you talk mate"

"Indeed .. I'll make a point of it …. You know, Moll, when we were first together you used to look at me as if you believed I could walk on water and I _loved_ it, loved the way it made me feel, even though I knew it was complete rubbish I just wanted you to keep on looking at me like that forever"

"Oh bollocks … you telling me you can't?"

"Listen …" He was a mix of laughing and dead serious "Promise me one thing … if you ever have doubts about anything to do with me, us, you'll tell me"

"Okay I promise …. In that case ... can I ask you something?"

"Oh fuck … yes of course you can"

"Your mum … I mean, do we really got to say anything to her … you know, about us, this? She's not gonna be happy, is she?"

"Nope, possibly not … but Moll, if it ever came down to a straight fight between what my mother wants and you, you win … and if my mother doesn't like that, well that's unfortunate but it's her problem"

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course, I mean it … now are you going to kiss me?"

"Yeah…"

-OG-

It had been a bloody god-awful way to spend a sodding afternoon in the first place, I'd hated sitting there with a fixed smile on my gob pretending everything was good and drinking tea that tasted like someone had forgotten to rinse the washing up liquid out the cup. I think she said it was called Lady Grey, or something which I'd never heard of, I mean I'd heard of Earl Grey although I'd never had it, I mean, I know some people like it, obviously, but not me. I thought it was fucking horrible, so horrible that I had a job not shuddering when I swallowed. Far as I'm concerned you can't beat a cup of good old PG Tips. Well, does me anyway.

I should have known that the whole bloody thing was going to be shit, well I had known I suppose, but it had all been well before me and Charles had really started falling to shit and he'd kept saying how he knew I was going to be fine, that his mum would only have to get to know me and she would see how I was brilliant. So I did, didn't I, I did it for him, well, couldn't really not could I? And anyway, you know how bleeding stubborn I am. I'd sat there on that sofa like a bleeding spare prick at a wedding biting my tongue and trying not to gag on the witches brew and doing my best not to show how pissed off I was at the way her and her cronies were talking over me as if I wasn't even there. It was obvious to me that she wasn't going to even give me a chance.

I'd barely made it through her firing squad without saying something rude, because I bloody knew by the way they were looking at me that she'd been saying stuff and that they'd already decided I was crude and common and that he was slumming it being with me. I could tell. Well actually they didn't even try and hide it, did they? I really couldn't stop myself staring at the one who couldn't move her face, she was Botoxed up to the eyebrows so couldn't move anything but that didn't stop her making comments about how tricky it can be when people get together in the work place. Then she said something about being careful about crossing lines, about how someone she knew had got in all sorts of trouble for having a smart mouth and they all gave these little snorts of sniggering laughter, I was pretty sure she was hinting he was only with me because I was good at blow jobs. I was so tempted to agree that he really loved them, and then offer to give them a blow by blow account, but her and his mum had moved on to talking about some poor bugger who'd got the nerve to come from what was obviously the cheap end of town. Except they were too posh to say the word slum. It was what they meant though and I knew it was directed at me from the way they all kept looking sideways at me, it told me everything I needed to know. I was quite proud of myself not saying anything, not even when I went for a pee and heard them talking about me when I was on my way back.

I don't know why I never told Charles at the time, I was embarrassed I suppose, so I just didn't, but one thing I was sure about was that I was never, ever doing anything like it ever again. No fucking way.

And as far as I'm concerned nothing has changed, three years doesn't make any real difference, and although I'm not quite as pissed at his mum as I had been that afternoon, whatever happens he can still bloody go on his own and tell her. And I can go on my own to tell my lot and then there'd be no awkward questions or horrible silences, and no-one saying stuff I might be sorry for.

-OG-

"Good morning beautiful"

"Go away … I'm asleep"

"Oh well in that case you won't want this tea I've just made you, will you?"

"Oh … go on then, I'm bloody awake now anyway, aren't I?"

"So gracious … what you mean is _thank you Charles, that's lovely_"

"Do I? Yeah what you said"

After we'd made up for a bit more lost time, I'd gone straight to sleep and had slept like the bloody dead. I can recommend it as a cure for insomnia. The only trouble is I think my eyes have been super-glued shut, but he knows exactly how I like it so maybe a cuppa is just what I need, especially as I've just realised how bloody thirsty I am now I'm properly awake. Something disgusting obviously crawled in my mouth last night and borrowed my tongue to lick the floor of the Earl clean at closing.

"Grumpy"

"I'm not … anyway what you doing still here? What about your run?"

If he went out for his usual run I could get up and do something about the way I stink, I can actually smell myself and it's not pretty. I need to bloody scrape the mould off my teeth as well before I get near enough to kiss him and I know we laughed about it but that was before even I got put off by the way I smell of sex. It's such a messy pastime innit?

"Is that you trying to get rid of me? Sorry, but I'm not going anywhere …. why the fuck would I want to go out in the cold when I can be in a nice warm bed with my nice warm and very beautiful wife who is very grumpy and needs cheering up, especially when it's pouring with rain out there …. And happy anniversary by the way"

"What you talking about, it's not our anniversary .. And I'm not grumpy… and which is it? Being in bed with me or not wanting to get wet?"

"Hard choice … and this is our new anniversary, November the 23rd, the day we stopped arsing about and sorted ourselves out … we are going to celebrate it every year"

"Yeah put it on the calendar … make sure we don't forget"

"We won't forget or I won't anyway"

"Nah, me neither … but I am gonna have to get up and do something about the way I stink …"

"You don't stink … tell you what .. drink your tea and then we'll have a shower … and then we can come back to bed"

"We?"

"Yup … that's what I said"

"Alright … but I can't stay in bed all day … I must do my bag, gotta make sure I've got everything all squared away and ready in case I get called…"

"You've only just got back .."

"I know … but don't say it like that …. I know it's probably a bit unlikely, but it all depends on how busy we are and who's available … Oh and who falls off a fucking cliff or something somewhere, we can get called any minute … you know that .. it's no different from being in the army, I have to go if I'm told … it's my job and I have to be ready in case"

"I know all that Moll … you don't need to tell me, but that doesn't mean I have to like it"

Oh bollocks, knew there'd be something.


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone that has reviewed, commented and messaged me about this, I really appreciate your support, in fact I couldn't do it without you and I am sorry this chapter has taken a while – but it is long! Hopefully not too long, but I have a problem self-regulating (get a bit carried away sometimes) and then have to look for a natural break. Thanks as always to Flossy who is so encouraging but also helps to keep me on the straight and narrow**_

_**Will you still love me Tomorrow?**_

You know I'm worried this is going to turn into a Dawsey Special clusterfuck, don't you? I think I believed all those promises because that's what I wanted, desperate for it to be all Disney hearts and flowers, but it's not going to be is it? Not even been one day and it's already got a bit fucked up, he's already forgotten he promised not to let things be the same as they were before, but he sounded exactly like he used to, like he still believes I need him to approve. And I bloody don't.

It's my job. Okay? And I want to be the best I can be at it, I've got a hell of a lot to prove. Might be my pride, I don't know, but I need everyone that said leaving the fucking army was a crap decision to see that what I'm doing now is every bit as important as what I did then. Perhaps it's that I need _him_ to look at me like that, but that's not going to happen is it? Not if he's going to be throwing a bleeding hissy fit every time I go away somewhere.

"Shit …. Moll .." There was no point in me flouncing off to the bathroom was there, that wasn't going to sort anything so I was just sitting on the edge of the bed thinking what the fuck to do next? I mean I think I'd known all along this probably wasn't going to work. It was never going be easy was it, because well, it's far too late, I might have missed him, well, I have missed being married to him, probably always will if we're not together, but there's too much water gone under the bridge.

"Are you listening to me, Molly? Look … I didn't mean to sound the way I did … and I'm so sorry …" He was shaking his head "I seem to be saying that a lot these days"

He'd crouched down in front of me with the fingertips of one hand on the floor by my feet and the other next to my thighs on the edge of the bed and was sort of balancing himself.

" I really didn't mean that to …" He shook his head again "It certainly didn't sound as bad as that in my head"

He snorted this little laugh down his nose and then looked down at my feet as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to say next and then looked up and treated me to his _please forgive me _face. He's bloody good at that puppy dog look with those chocolate brown eyes of his all melty and gooey, it almost always gets him his own way because it's bloody hard to resist. Not sure about this time, though, think I might have to harden my heart.

"Look, I know that going away is a bloody big part of your job, well it is your job for fuck sake …. and that it's got nothing to do with me, it would be way out of line if I thought it was okay to behave as if it was, it's not, I know that" There was this little frown between his eyes "I know you probably don't think so, but I'm so fucking proud of you Moll, you're …. you're brilliant … you're bright and funny and the bravest person I've ever met …" He was still holding himself up on his fingertips and without even a little wobble when he lifted the other hand off the bed and ran it over his hair, shit, he's got good stomach muscles, hasn't he? "Not only are you totally brilliant but you're also very, very beautiful, and …. but then, you know all that already, don't you?"

He snorted another laugh, so I wasn't that sure how seriously I should be taking what he was saying, didn't actually know whether he was taking the piss a bit.

"Are you taking the piss?"

"No of course I'm not, I mean every word"

"Okay .. ummmm, so, can we just shut up about it now?"

"Not yet, haven't finished … you are also the kindest person I've ever met and _that's _what makes you so outstandingly good at what you do…"

"Shut up, I'm not … and you know you're talking bollocks … stop it, you're being embarrassing now"

I could feel the blush starting from somewhere round my sodding kneecaps, which was all I bloody needed, wasn't it? As if it wasn't embarrassing enough, he was going to see me get all hot and bothered and end up looking like a fucking tomato. But didn't know what to say, did I? To shut him up. It was a bloody lifetime since anyone had said they were proud of me, well, not since he used to say it all the time and I know he's only messing, but hearing him say it means I can't help feeling all warm inside. And embarrassed.

"Think you might be a bit bloody biased, mate"

"Stop arguing with me woman … and just because I might possibly be a tad biased doesn't mean it's not true … every fucking word of it …" He took a deep breath as if he was thinking hard at what to say next "Your kind heart is what makes you so very special Molly … as well as that incredible charm and magnetism of yours, and .. being gorgeous with the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen … and the best smile" He put his head back and laughed which spoilt it a bit "I mean, being kind is what makes you who you are and I adore you for it … always have … you do know how much I love you, don't you? And that I really am sorry I spoke without thinking …. And … that I'm trying here … doing my best …"

"Yeah I know you are …. bleeding trying … but I do love you too … it's just there's nothing funny about this … and you did promise"

"I know I did…" He frowned and then lifted his eyebrows "And I'm not laughing …. So, what can I say?"

It's bloody near impossible to keep a straight face when the person you're trying to be cross with is balancing in front of you without a bloody stitch on. It's not fair that he hasn't got a spare bit of fat on him anywhere, is it? And I don't know how he balances like that, not only are his stomach muscles like he's a swimmer or a runner or something, but all the rest of his muscles are just as bloody impressive which is a bit distracting actually when they're that close. If that was me crouching in front of him, I'd be holding my breath and sucking in my stomach, worrying about the rolls of flab everywhere and the cellulite. I really have got to sort out a diet, or maybe actually go to the gym instead of just keep on saying I'm going.

And It's a bit difficult not letting my eyes drift down to, well you know where, because doing that would be a bit tacky, wouldn't it?

I don't want to fight with him, not when it's not even been a whole day yet and even for us that's a bit bloody early to start being at each other's throats.

"You know, you might gonna want to think about putting some clothes on before you go out, if you go like that you'll prob'ly get arrested"

"That's better" His mouth widened into that killer smile which as usual sent tingles right down to my toes "Sorry …where am I going exactly?"

"Get something for breakfast?"

"Of course, silly me, so I'm going out in the rain to buy something with chocolate in it, am I? And then I'll be off your shit list?"

"Yeah… prob'ly .. if you're really bloody lucky"

"Right …"

"Depends how bad you wanna be forgiven, dunnit?"

"I'm on my way"

Just because I don't want to fight doesn't mean we don't have to talk about it some more, there's no way I'm going to just sit here 24/7 waiting for him to come home for his tea. And I'm definitely not going to be twiddling my bloody thumbs hanging about waiting for him to come back when he's on tour somewhere either. Somehow, I really can't see him telling the army he doesn't want to go off to some shit-hole somewhere because his bloody wife, _that's me by the way,_ doesn't like it and that he wants to keep her happy, can you? Nah, didn't think so. Anyway, they'd piss themselves laughing.

But just because I've sacked the army it doesn't mean that what I do doesn't matter, my job is important, well it's important to me and it matters to people like Marge and Ron when they're in trouble. And just because Charles and me might be getting back together doesn't mean I haven't got any ambition anymore. I still want a career, and I still want to go to all the places I've never been, I want to see everywhere I thought I'd get a chance to see when I took the job. None of that's changed, it's just there's a bit of me can't help thinking it'd be nice to come home to him.

I think he might have decided he's already been forgiven by his huge happy smirk and the way he leaned in close to kiss me, close enough that he almost toppled over and I had to put my hand out to stop him face planting on the edge of the bed. And then I ran my fingers lightly down the stubble on his cheek and he gave this little shiver before he grabbed hold of my hand like he wanted to stop me touching him, then lifted it to his mouth and kissed my knuckles one by one. He was looking at me the whole time.

"Right … time for that shower I think"

What? Fuck I hadn't been expecting that, I'd thought, well you know what I'd thought, but couldn't help watching his back-view disappearing into the bathroom. Well actually I think I was narrowing my eyes a bit as I watched, was maybe perving on his beautiful naked bum., Did I tell you it's worth perving on? I could hear the water start running as I sat there and shivered, got no clue why I was shivering but it wasn't because I was cold I don't think, I was just, you know, shivering when he popped his head out the door and put his hand out towards me.

"Come on then, hurry up …. Chop, chop, what are you waiting for?"

"Me?"

"Of course _you_, who else?"

As usual a shower with Charles means the water was turned up far too bloody hot, almost boiling, well, maybe not quite that bad, but it was hot enough to make me try and dodge it, try to back out into the bathroom that was filled with steam. Actually, it was turned up hot enough to make him gasp a bit as he fiddled with the controls and tried to turn it down. I don't know why he'd touched it in the first place, it had been perfect before, now it was scalding hot one minute and cold enough to freeze the knackers off anyone the next. I've got no idea how he gets on when he's away on tour with his love of hot water. I've never asked, but the showers are almost always complete shit so that you count yourself lucky to get a luke-warm dribble, getting enough water to rinse shampoo out your hair is just about bleeding impossible.

I was really, really conscious of being in this tiny little space with a naked Charles behind me. I could feel how hard he was breathing and how hard he was trying not to rub up against me as he squeezed some shampoo onto the palm of his hand and began to massage his fingertips on my scalp. I'd forgotten how bleeding sexy that feels, and then he scooped my hair to one side and squeezed a line of shower gel across my shoulders to begin running those magic fingers of his all over me. He was massaging it over my shoulders and down my sides and my arms so I was having a bit of a job breathing properly. I could feel the suds being washed down my back and had to screw my eyes tight shut and concentrate on thinking about something else, anything except leaning back against him. You've got no idea how much I wanted to do it and feel his arms go round me, but instead he put his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him. He guided me right under the middle of the water to rinse the suds off of both of us and I kept my eyes shut, didn't give in and open them to look down and watch the soapy water run off the erection I could feel nudging at my stomach.

But think he read my mind as he leaned over and brushed his cheek against my lips so I could feel his stubble against them and then he cupped my face in both of his hands and kissed me. A soft kiss, with no tongues, just a brush of his lips against mine.

"Am I forgiven yet?"

"Nah … you haven't been out yet …. Oh, go on then …"

"Good … wouldn't like to think I was going out for chocolate smelling of whatever flower gave up its life to make this shower smell so … _flowery _… if I was still in the shit"

"It smells of roses and something or other ….and they don't put real ones in it, nothing died, prannet"

"Lovely …"

I was almost light headed with all sorts of things, what with being bloody dog tired, well not having very much sleep and then having a too hot shower and most of all with a bit of disappointment when he kissed me again just as lightly and then turned off the shower and got out. Okay he did hold the door for me to get out, but I really thought that was it, especially when he grabbed the towel off the rack and wrapped me in it before he put his head back and laughed that he should have found another one before he got wet. But somehow we ended up sharing mine.

And then he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing at all, told you he's got good muscles, and carried me over to slide me back on the bed and I grabbed the back of his neck with both hands just in case he'd got any ideas about getting dressed and pissing off to go shopping. But he was kissing me again instead, and tracing a pattern of little kisses over my neck and down my throat before cupping my tits and running his thumbs over my nipples and as our bodies rocked together I could hear someone making all these little noises in their throat. I think it was me.

-OG-

"I'm going to need another shower before I go out for your chocolate"

"That's romantic …"

"Sorry … but I was the one did all the work and I'm the one who's going out shopping smelling of roses"

"I like the smell … and I did work as well you cheeky bugger .. didn't you notice all that magic hip action? Getting that right took a lot of practice and … Pilates"

"Of course, I noticed" He was smirking "Hey, I didn't know you did Pilates"

"Didn't you?" I couldn't help the giggle that was more of a snigger actually "Yeah, well … went once … but I'm a quick learner"

"I'm sure you are …. what's so bloody funny?"

"Nothing"

I love the two of us being all childish and messing around teasing each other and me sticking my tongue out at him and both of us laughing in this happy haze after we'd had sex. It was something I didn't know I'd missed. I'd missed all the sexy stuff, but I'd really missed laughing with him.

-OG-

"I have no idea what the conversation you're having with yourself in that gorgeous little head of yours is about, but how about you talk to me instead"

"What conversation? Don't know what you're talking about"

He gave me another one of those knockout smiles and then shrugged when I rolled my eyes and plastered my very best wide-eyed innocent look on my face. It was the magic one that Fingers taught me when I was with the under-fives, worked every time.

"Yes, you do … it looked as if you were tying yourself in knots … Oh, and Moll …" He smirked "Rolling your eyes at me like that and treating me to your best innocent look doesn't work either, so don't bother"

"I'll have you know I am innocent …got no clue what you're bleeding on about …."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really … except, I was just thinking … was wondering a bit really …"

"Thinking? … Oh help, that sounds dangerous"

"Yeah, yeah, you need to change the bleeding record … alright…I'll shut up"

"Nope, sorry, don't do that"

"Where was you exactly? You haven't said"

"Ummm…. let me see now, where was I? … Waitrose?"

"Yeah, bloody funny … you know I didn't mean just now, I meant when you fucked off, when you disappeared off of the face of the bloody earth for years without a dicky bird, where were you? I didn't know … but if you don't wanna tell me …" I did this little shrug of my shoulders that I knew would get to him "Course if you've got something to hide …."

"I've got nothing to hide … and you did know, you knew exactly where I was … I wasn't hiding anything, why would I?"

He was shaking his head dead slowly and then leaned over the table and used his thumb to wipe the little bits of pastry and chocolate off of my chin. The chocolately croissanty thing that he'd bought for me was really nice, but it was also bleeding messy to eat. There's obviously a knack to eating them without making a sodding mess, a knack I don't seem to have. He was keeping on looking at me while he slowly licked the goo off his thumb, which actually was quite a sexy thing to do, before he grinned at me. I think he might have been trying to distract me but I just kept looking at him, waiting for an answer.

"I did a lot of tours, Molly, a _lot_" His eyebrows shot up "I went to a lot of very crap places … well you know what it's like … same shit, different hell-hole.. but you already know all that, I knew the lads were keeping you up-to-date with where we were and what we were doing" His eyebrows were still almost up in his hair "Where the fuck did you think I was?"

"Dunno … you could of been banged up for all I knew, okay probably not that, I would have heard, but I really didn't know, didn't talk to the lads much .. not after … well…"

"Oh god, I didn't mean you to be worried, I thought they were in constant touch with you, they certainly gave me a hard time over what happened, I got the distinct impression they were reporting my every move straight back to you"

"Did you? Well you was wrong and I never said I was worried, who said I was? Anyway, why would you think they'd keep telling me?"

There was this sudden rush of a lovely warm feeling in the bottom of my guts, I'd really missed them, but I'd spent a lot of time making sure I avoided them, and it had got to be a habit. I'd been bothered they'd want to know all the ins-and-outs, and I wasn't going to tell them the truth, was I? Couldn't. Not about my part in what had gone wrong, anyway. I might have got away with being a bit fucking economical with the truth when I was telling my lot, they were always a bit ready to blame him for everything anyway, and I hadn't told any lies, not to anyone, hadn't made out I was some sort of blameless victim, but I had been a little bit _sparing _with the details. But I couldn't do that with the lads, they'd bloody know the minute I started spouting bullshit, they know both of us too well.

"Oh, I don't know … might have something to do with the way they fucking adore you"

"They do not … no more than they do you ... they worship you, you're their bloody hero as well as their boss"

"Once upon a time maybe, but not now Moll … those days are long gone …. I'm still their boss, but I think you'll find, my darling, that you are their precious Dawsey, and I'm really not sure they're ever going to forgive me for making you unhappy, a truce was the best I could hope for, and I could go back to being a moody git and nothing worse"

"You wanna stop being a moody git then … sorry if they give you a hard time, but I never said anything to them about anything and I'm not unhappy … I mean was, a bit, for a while, but I'm not now … "

"Good, I'm glad to hear it"

"What about after you'd been away on tour… I mean, where was you living?"

"I thought you knew … I was in barracks … lucky me … why?"

"Just interested, I thought you'd be in Bath with your mum"

"Christ, no … give me a break … what on earth made you think I'd do that?"

"Dunno that either … but …. you didn't come home and you could of….you only had to just, you know, say .."

"Could I? I'm not so sure about that"

"Well …. okay, but I mean, if you'd wanted you could of, mind you, would have been a bit tricky for you to do your care in the community thing wouldn't it, if you did come back home?"

"My what?"

"Your being _available_ in the community, you know, anyone with a need, anytime, anywhere …"

"Right, that's it … for fuck sake that's the last time I'm ever going to tell you anything"

"Sorry … 'n sorry for laughing … it was a joke, I thought you'd laugh …."

"Did you? Ha ha, fucking hilarious, tell you what Moll, I promise I'll laugh when you say something even remotely funny"

"Ooops …. touchy ….sorry"

"Yup, you sound it …"

He was trying dead hard to make out I'd seriously offended him, but the act was a bit spoilt when the corners of his mouth started twitching. He was trying not to grin. I'd forgotten just how much fun it was winding him up and how bloody easy it was sometimes. I'm really not as upset as I was about what he got up to, or rather who he got up to, well, no, that's a bit of a lie, I am, but just not as much as I was. Maybe I'm getting used to the idea.

"Never mind about me, what about you? Are you seriously sitting there polishing your fucking halo and telling me you sat at home every night drinking cocoa and reading the bible?"

"Yeah … well, nah, no need to be a smartarse, I did sit at home, you're right about that, but drinking tea not cocoa and watching Netflix"

"On your own?"

"Yeah, course ..why not?"

"Tell me Moll, why do I find that so hard to believe?"

"Dunno …. Maybe cos you got a suspicious mind or perhaps cos of having a guilty conscience?"

"My conscience is getting less guilty by the second … and what about Al? Have you forgotten all about him? Or hey, you didn't make him up to make me jealous, did you?"

"Nah, I bloody didn't, cheeky sod, already told you … he never came here and I never slept with him, didn't love him"

Oh please, let the God of Bollocks forgive me for bending the truth a little bit, alright a bloody lot. I've got no idea what the blazing arse I'd been thinking of, I mean Al for fuck sake? Let's face it, my standards before Charles could possibly be described as slightly shit, but then he came along and it all changed, until, well, after we went down the shitter they really dropped off again and became what you could describe as mega shit, but even so, Al? I mean, he's pretty enough and I sort of fancied him, a bit, but getting in a relationship with him would have been a sodding disaster. Not that it was going to happen, apart from the problem of him having a chipolata, we'd got sod all in common and I was telling the truth when I said he's never been here, and I didn't sleep with him at his either. I might just possibly have rolled around in his bed with him a bit, but he's got this little difficulty with knob control, like he hasn't got any so that was the end of that. I'm ashamed to say now that at the time that was the only reason I didn't, there was no other. Not that I'm going to tell Charles about any of that, there are some things should always be kept private.

"Come here"

I didn't want him to be able to look in my eyes and see I wasn't telling him the exact truth, I really wanted to grab him and kiss him and well, sod everything else, I wanted him to touch me and kiss me because more than anything I wanted him to help me scrub the backs of my eyes clean of the picture of me lying starkers in Al's bed. And what had happened afterwards with his chipolata. I badly wanted to forget all that, and forget how bloody close I'd come to making the same bleeding mistake all over again at that party after I'd had too much Prosecco. And when I felt bloody miserable about Amber. Oh fuck, maybe that's a sign I should give up drinking. Shit, I felt guilty even though I hadn't, well you know, done anything in the end and I could feel my heart pounding as he pulled me against him and pressed our bodies together.

"Hey I can't, I got stuff to do, haven't I? Got my case to sort and a wash to put on … and there's the shopping, we still got no food in the house"

"Can't what?"

"Can't go back to bed"

"Who said anything about going back to bed? I was just going to suggest we do some shopping"

"No, you weren't"

"No, you're right I wasn't … "

-OG-

The sound of the bloody alarm going off at 6.00 on Tuesday morning came as a horrible reminder that my long weekend was over and it was time for real life to come crashing back. Shit.


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: In my alternative universe there is definitely no virus out to get us all – so no effect on Molly's life at home or her role at work as a medic, and there are no nutjobs panic buying loo paper (!) I think it's all frightening enough without reading about it in a story and that a bit of escapism is called for –anyway massive thanks to everyone who is still following and who took the time to review and comment on Chapter 13, I really couldn't do it without your support. **_

_**Make Believe that we're together**_

_**That I'm sheltered by your Heart**_

I've loved it you know, every single minute, can't pretend I haven't, the whole weekend was like our honeymoon all over again. Well, I suppose that's what it was in a way but without the fuck off frock and all the worry about whether Nan was going to punch his mum. Or rather when.

Two seconds after the alarm had gone off, Charles was happily sitting there looking like he hadn't got a care in the world, but then he wasn't the one who'd got to go back to work, was he? Lucky bugger has still got leave for another week, and to be fair he probably has got stuff he's worried about, telling the old witch for one, but you know what I mean. He had his arms folded behind his head so he could lean back all relaxed against the headboard and had this huge happy grin on his face which was definitely a bit of a waste, I was having a hard enough job getting my eyes to stay open without trying to smile back. I don't know what his secret is, I mean how does any normal person get to be so bloody cheerful when they've only just got dragged out of a lovely deep sleep? Mystery to me. All I want is a bit of a cuddle with my lovely hot water bottle with the hairy legs, before I'm allowed to go back to sleep. For about a week.

I know telling you that we spent most of the weekend in bed sounds a bit on the sleazy side, but it wasn't. We did get up occasionally, you know, go to the loo, brush our teeth, that sort of thing and we did have the odd shower. Together. And Charles had gone out for his run before he played hero and did the shopping, had even got some Brocolli, while I sorted my stuff for work, and then we had watched a bit of tele. Not that much to be honest before we'd taken our food and drink and gone back to bed, and then had to get up again to straighten it and get rid of the crumbs. It really had been just like old times.

"Good morning beautiful"

"Mornin'"

"Come on Grumpy… smile"

"I'm not grumpy…"

I did that baring my teeth thing that is actually nothing like a smile, but it was best I could manage, I've got no clue how he can be so fucking cheerful when we got to get up and it feels like the middle of the sodding night, it would make far more sense if he cuddled down with me under the duvet. Can't throw a sickie, can I? Much as I'd like to, not after all the bleeding fuss I made about my job being important. l really don't want to get up, well that's an understatement if ever there was one, but I do want to find out how Ron's getting on and work is the only place to find out. Can't help hoping I'm not going to be sent on a job somewhere though, not today, I haven't got the energy for a start. Completely bloody knackered that's me.

But Charles is obviously full of energy, he's already up and out of bed and looking for his boxers on the floor. Not completely sure why he looked at them all dubious when he found them, they're definitely clean, he only had them on for about five sodding minutes before they were off again and on the floor. I suppose I should be grateful that he just pulled them on and didn't sniff them, not like some blokes I've known, and then stood looking for the rest of his stuff which was spread all over the shop for some reason. Actually, he looked a bit like that Beck's poster Bella's got on the back of the door at home, you know the one, he's in his white Calvin Kleins? Must admit I think black ones are sexier, but that's probably because Charles wears black. Mind you, in my humble opinion, putting any at all on was definitely a backward step.

"Where you going?"

"Tea?"

"You're a hero"

"I know" He was laughing, I think it was at me "Hey … come on, chop, chop, sleepyhead, time to get that beautiful arse out of bed …. unless you want to be late?"

"Yeah, will … in a minute …" I pulled the pillow over my head and shut my eyes again, I didn't think he'd be able to hear me muttering about how he was just like my bloody mother. I was wrong.

"I heard that …" He was laughing, or at least I think he was, he was making a snorting noise down his nose as he popped his head out through the hole where he'd been pulling his 't' shirt on.

"You was meant to"

Well that was lie number one out the way, wasn't it? But he was right, it was time I had to get up, and let's face it there was nothing to stay in bed for, was there?

"You going out?"

Wonderful Molly, what brilliant observation skills you got, obviously haven't lost it then? But I've never been the best at sparrow's fart, I've always been one of those people who leave it till the last possible moment to get up and then have to tear round like a headless chicken. Not even the army turned me into a natural _morning_ person. I can't help it, it's the way I'm made, I've been the same my whole life. I used to want mum to just shut up yelling at me to get myself up and let me go back to sleep, especially as it didn't matter if she did get me out of my pit and set me off in the right direction, I mostly ended up truanting down the arcade.

"Yup … got to keep fit, at my age I've got to work on my stamina" He had that grin on his face again as he turned to look at me and began to bite at his bottom lip "Unlike some people … and I really don't want to be force fed fucking Brocolli"

"You having a pop?" He was, I bloody knew he was, okay he was laughing, but we'd come _this _close to having a domestic the other morning about whether or not I was going to go out for a run with him. I'd opted for not.

"Nothing wrong with my stamina, 'n I don't need extra exercise, ta"

Well, that was lie number two, wasn't it? What I meant was I was not going to get all hot and sweaty in some misguided attempt to keep up with daddy long legs and then have him laugh at me and ask if I was a bleeding puffer fish. I had every intention of getting back into it, running I mean, but I needed to do it slowly and at my own pace, didn't I?

"No, of course not, I didn't say you did … wouldn't dream of it, you know I think you're perfect just the way you are …"

"Stop taking the piss …"

"I'm not … wouldn't dream of that either, and now I'm going to get the tea before I get myself into trouble"

"Good idea ….'n can you please hurry up …. else I'm gonna be late, aren't I?"

"Stop pushing your luck"

"Me?"

I couldn't help it, laughing I mean, though I sort of knew I ought to be trying to keep a straight face, I didn't want him thinking I was pushing it and not to keep his promise, I was bloody hanging for a cuppa.

"I mean, you are still gonna get my tea, aren't you? Before you go?"

"Yup … wouldn't dare say no …" He was sitting on the edge of the bed putting his socks on but stopped and squinted sideways at me.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

There was a look on his face that said he'd possibly got hold of some idea from somewhere that I'm a bit eager for him to go.

"Nah, 'n don't be snotty, just …. wondering do you want the bathroom first, that's all?"

Quick thinking or what?

"Ummm … Nope" He put his head back and roared with laughter, don't know what at "Thanks all the same … but …If I do change my mind, I can always use the other one"

"Oh yeah … course"

Okay, not quite such quick thinking then, shit, I can't even come up with a convincingly lie at this time of the day, can I? But it's not I want him to hurry up and leave, it's just I need time on my own to _think_ and thought I could use the time I was getting ready for work. Well it's as good a time as any. I've got to decide what the fuck I'm going to tell people. If anything. To be fair, I'm probably not going to say a word at work, it's not like my home life is any of their fucking business, is it? I don't give a shit what a moron like Kelli thinks, but I've got to ring Claire, and well, she's a whole different ball bag. She's my best mate, and I feel guilty enough as it is for blanking her all weekend. Well I do now. She kept texting and eventually left a yelling sort of message saying 'call me, NOW, you cow' so I texted and lied through my sodding teeth, told her I was jet-lagged, which I obviously wasn't, and promised to ring today. Now I'm going to have to do it and I've got no clue what I'm going to say.

Last time we talked about him it was at that party and I called him a lot of very rude names. I was a bit pissed and miserable, so had said all the usual, you know, that I'd never touch him again, even if he was the last bloke on earth and all the rest of it. Had insisted I bloody _hated_ him, that he was a shitty lying prick for parading Amber in front of me and that she was fucking welcome to him. Well, you know the sort of thing. And then I'd practically attacked Chipolata Man, had pulled him away from that girl he was with and almost dragged him off to find a bed somewhere. Shit. And that was only a couple of weeks ago, wasn't it? Not long enough for Claire to forget, anyway she's got the memory of a sodding elephant so there's no chance of that. People always bloody do remember the things you wish they didn't.

-OG-

"Don't forget your key … I'll be gone in a bit 'n you don't wanna spend all day sitting on the doorstep … you'll get piles"

"Lovely … there's an attractive prospect, but I'm not going to be that long, I'll be back in time to take you …"

"Nah, it's alright, you go and … um, enjoy your run … I'll get the bus"

"You really are a stubborn little madam, aren't you?"

"Me?" It wasn't I was being stubborn, getting a lift would be good and would save me having to rush, but I needed the time on the bus to ring Claire. I couldn't do it in front of him or in the office, could I? "I'm not being stubborn … well, no more than you … I was just being nice"

"If you say so"

Do you know, from the way he said that I'm pretty bloody sure he doesn't believe me, can't think why not, can you?

"What you doing today?"

"Sorting out Barracks and collecting my stuff?" He looked at me and laughed "That's if you promise not to give it all to the Sally Army when I'm out, I'll be running out of bloody clothes in no time at this rate"

"I'm not gonna say I'm sorry" Even if I was, a little bit "I didn't know you still wanted it, so it was your own fault" I thought about pretending to be offended but shrugged instead "It was for a good cause and didn't seem you was gonna come back for it …. so, stop moaning, there's people out there probably grateful for your socks"

"I'm sure there are … and I'm not moaning"

He was. I'd had to confess that after he'd buggered off I'd packaged up all his stuff, all his clothes, every last stitch, his boxers and his socks as well as his sweaters and trainers and shirts, even his favourite stuff, everything, it was just lucky there was none of his uniform stuff or that would have gone as well. I'd donated the lot to the Salvation Army for their Living on the Streets appeal and for about five minutes I'd felt happy that some poor bugger, maybe even ex-service, was walking around wearing his best stuff. And it was better than having a bonfire in the park which was my other option. But he'd had a bit of a job seeing the funny side when I told him, I was right though wasn't I, it was his own fault? And to be fair to me, I'd kept hold of his photos and letters from Sammie and that, and some cuff links and other odds and sods, didn't matter how tempted I was to get rid, I hadn't, I'd put them in a shoe box instead. Nice of me, I thought.

-OG-

Even though I knew it was a bit shit, like I was ashamed or something, I put my rings in my purse when I was on the bus to work, I didn't feel up to explaining them to anyone. It was just lucky it was Tuesday so there was no-one asking what anyone had done over the weekend. Which was just as well, I'm not sure how I would have explained getting back into bed with the husband they didn't know I'd got to get to know him all over again. Although that might have helped explain all the yawning and the bags and dark circles under my eyes. Actually, it was a struggle to stay awake enough to properly check and re-check med kits, I kept wondering what the chances were of me getting another day off to get over Abu Dhabi if I asked, and decided they were probably zero. So, I drank gallons of tea and ate my own body weight in chocolate instead and wondered whether anyone would mind if I put my head down and had a little sleep. Don't think I'd get away with that either.

One thing that was better was that everyone was miles more friendly than before. It was like I'd passed some initiation test or something with Marge and Ron, who was doing great by all accounts. I'd love to go and see Marge and tell her that she'd made me think about things a bit different, but not sure even who to ask.

Even Kelli with a fucking i who usually has all the charisma of a used tissue decided to talk to me like I was part of the human race, just for once she was playing nice and not treating me like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe, which was a definite bonus. I think. I mean, I'd happily live without all her usual lectures on how to live my life but I'm not wild about the idea of her being my best mate at work. And no-one said anything about me going anywhere either, which was another bonus. I know from what I've heard that now I've proved I'm up to the job, I'll get more trips, I hadn't realised quite how wary they were of me before. But sods law, isn't that what they call it when you get all the things you were longing for just when you're not completely happy they're what you want anymore? Last week I'd have snatched their hands off, now I don't know, I'll have to wait and see I suppose.

-OG-

Claire was already chatting up that bloody awful oily creep that works behind the bar on week nights, the one we decided is gross. But looks like she might be thinking different tonight, she's fiddling with her hair and tossing it back over her shoulder, she either fancies him or she's already pissed. Or both. It means I can duck out of sight though to read his text without her asking questions or reading over my bloody shoulder. This is the second one today, which is nice. The first made me blush a bit, but this time he just wants me to text and tell him when I'm ready so he can come and get me, but, you know, I think not. I don't need anyone to do that, I'm a big girl now, I can get a bus.

"Sorry if I'm late …"

"You're not … and it's okay, been talking to Simon here …"

"Yeah, I saw …. hello Simon "

S_imon?_

"Right … I can't wait to hear this"

"What? To hear what?" Fuck, I knew she was probably going to be pissed at me, I'd been sort of expecting it because I haven't exactly been the best recently but this is a bit much even for Claire. She's gone straight for my bleeding throat "What's up with you?"

"What's up? Well, let me see, apart from _where the fuck have you been all weekend?"_

"What?"

"Just wondering why you couldn't answer your fucking phone and why you sent me a whole bunch of thrilling pictures of sand and then vanished into thin air …?"

Shit, I'm right, she's upset.

"I did think you were making sure I wasn't jealous, I mean a fucking sand pit? But that was only until I realised it was a clue, that you'd been abducted by …. white slave traders"

"What? You watch too much tele"

I was laughing, but it didn't stop me feeling a bit bad, I could have rung her when I got home, should have, put her mind at rest before, well before I'd got distracted.

"Sorry, phone died"

"Oh, well, that explains it, you lost your charger … all weekend" She raised her eyebrows to tell me she knew bullshit when she heard it "I thought you'd maybe met some rich old Arab …. with …. oil wells and bleeding camels … so were far too busy shagging him to answer your phone" She sniggered which reminded me of what a dirty laugh she's got when she wants "Selfish cow, when I wanted you to ask him if he'd got a mate"

"You definitely watch too much Netflix … Muppet … I was working, wasn't I?"

"What, all weekend, just got back have you?"

"Ummmm Nah … Thursday … sorry"

"Well, so I should think … you'd have been even more sorry if you hadn't sent that crap about jet-lag, I was just about to phone your mum and report you missing"

"Shit, I really am sorry, Claire … can I have a drink now d'you think? I'll get us both one" I sort of beckoned at the lovely Simon, still couldn't believe she'd got on first name terms with him when we've been avoiding talking to him for all these months. We knew he'd got the hots for her, but she's way out of his league and the last time we were in here we were pissing ourselves at the idea of her putting him out of his misery. Now I did a little nod towards his back view as he walked off to get us a drink, you know, same way Charles does sometimes "What's with him?"

"Nothing and stop it, you are not changing the subject … so, what were you doing? And don't bother telling porkies, I know a bloody lie when I hear one … so, what? Come on, what?"

Lovely Simon, yeah alright horrible oily creep Simon with the inkings up his arms and the piercings and the ratty man pony tail, chose that exact moment to arrive with our drinks so I could happily ignore her and concentrate on paying for them. And then on getting one of those little paper table mat things to wipe the drips off the bottom of the glass before they ended up down my shirt, and thinking all the time and wracking my brains trying to remember even some of the stuff I'd rehearsed. For some reason my mind had gone blank.

"Nothing …. much … just you know, I was a bit tired …'n that … it was hard work"

"Nothing?"

"Nothing"

I was doing my best to sip my drink slowly, and not throw it down my neck in my hurry to get away and go home, all of a sudden, I didn't want to sit and drink and talk to her. I have got no clue why the fuck I'd thought any of this had anything to do with anyone else. It was what me and Charles wanted that mattered.

"Come on, tell me … Oh fuck me sideways … you did, didn't you?"

"Did what?"

"Slept with that duplicitous lying prick"

"Who? Got no idea what that even means …"

"Oh yes, you have, you were married to him once upon a time"

She raised her eyebrows at me. And waited. She can be dead bloody good at that silent thing.

"Still am … and don't be horrible, he's not … he's nothing like what you just said …"

"It wasn't me said it, that was you"

"I never … I don't even know what that means"

"It means liar"

"I'm not"

"No, it means he's a two-faced liar and it was you said all that stuff, you were the one wanted a contract put out on him … said he'd been shagging some … slapper … and that he was too old for you"

"Alright, yeah, I might have … but that was when I was pissed at him, but … he wasn't shagging her; I got that wrong … I mean he was, but not anymore …. and he's not old"

"If you say so … alright, he's not old" She rolled her eyes and repeated what I'd said in a stupid faked voice like she was taking the piss, which she was "From what I saw he's … not bad, and anyway who the fuck cares if he's a bit long in the tooth, I've heard that older men have … advantages … if you know what I mean"

"CLAIRE"

"What?" She tried for the innocent look and failed "Okay … but I got a sixth sense for these things, or should I say a sex sense?" She sniggered again "Look, I know you, and I know you still like him, Moll, you still care about him because if you didn't then you wouldn't give a shit what he does … or who he does it with … or what anyone says about him either and just because you and him have got history and .. what you looking at me like that for?"

"I'm not looking at you like anything … okay, you're right, I might have … we might have … I was a bit drunk" I wasn't "And … well, so was he" He wasn't either "So it's not like I really made a decision or anything …"

"Your subconscious obviously thought it was a good idea"

"When I'm pissed my subconscious thinks a lot of things are a good idea … most of them are complete shit …"

"Including this?" I thought she was supposed to be my mate, but she was really enjoying making me squirm and shake my head "No thought not, was he as good as you remember?"

"Fuck off, as if I'm going to tell you …. nosy cow, mind your own bloody business"

Just because I'm laughing doesn't mean I'm going to tell her anything, give me credit for some sense. I know that if I do, she's never going to give it a rest.

"That's because I've got no sex life of my own … I think you should go for it, Moll … I would if I was you"

"You're not me though, are you?" I got no idea where to start on getting out of the hole I've dug for myself "The age thing means we want different things, dunnit?" Shit that not only sounded dead lame but it's not true I don't think. Still, I've said it now, haven't I? Means I'm stuck with it.

"He might be a bit … older than you … but from what I saw he's pretty fit looking … and I'm sure he's not a complete arse or you wouldn't have got together with him in the first place … I mean, you're not stupid, even though you might act it sometimes"

"I know I'm not … and I'm not the only one sometimes acts it, am I? … but, it didn't exactly work out last time, did it? Why should this be different?"

"You don't have to promise for the rest of your life or anything do you? Just…" She sniggered "Just … you know, suck it and see"

"Fuck off …"

-OG-

"Missed me?"

"Is everything okay? You're early, I thought you were going to let me know when you were done?"

"I wanted to come home, didn't I?"

He had his eyes shut and was tapping his fingers along with whatever he was plugged in listening to, Elton John probably, and obviously hadn't heard me come in. The huge grin that appeared on his face when he saw me watching him told me he was every bit as pleased to see me as I was to see him. He'd been on my mind on and off all day, well definitely the whole evening, I'd been turning it over and over in my head as I tried my best to be sensible, which was hard when my heart and my head were saying two different things.

"You weren't long… good time?"

"Okay… yeah I did I s'pose" If you can call being bloody weirded out by your best mate grilling you for the details of your sex life having a good time "But I'm glad to be home, I wanted to be here … listen … I been thinking .."

"Oh shit… really? What about?"

I had been trying to walk towards him in a straight line without any wobbling which wasn't as easy as it sounds, needed a fair bit of concentration didn't it? I could see a wary look on his face as he watched me, and then he had to shoot out his arm and grab me when I stumbled and almost fell over my own bloody feet. Classy drunk, that's me. Well, I wasn't really _drunk,_ drunk, just might have had one more than was wise.

"_Us _… you and me?"

"I know what _us_ means, Moll, so what about us?"

He sounded as though he'd really got no idea what to expect but was suspicious that he wasn't going to like it whatever it was.

"I been thinking … you know, I really do want … I wanna give us a go … you and me … all of it… being together 'n that … and not just the sex thing"

"The sex thing?" His eyebrows shot up as he laughed and shook his head "What the fuck is that? And I thought we'd already decided that we weren't getting divorced .. that we were trying again?"

"Well, yeah, we have, but … I been bricking it"

"You? Have you? Why … what the fuck are you scared about?"

"I was worried in case it might all be like last time … that I'd end up fucked… you know that I love you, don't you, and it's not that … but I was bothered what people would think, would say … but, it really don't matter what anyone else thinks, does it, or says? We're what matters, no-one else"

"Yep …. Now please tell me that you're not drunk"

He was holding onto the tops of my arms and slowly shaking his head as though he couldn't quite believe what had came out of my mouth. Not that I blame him, I mean, I hadn't put any of that very well, had I?

"I'm not drunk? … Why? Why does that matter?"

Not very drunk anyway.

"I'm really glad to hear that" He was smirking "I'm supposed to be a gentleman which means I'm not allowed to advantage of you if you're drunk"

"Who says? What if I don't mind?" Somehow my arms seemed to have found their way round his neck as he chewed at the corner of his bottom lip and then narrowed his eyes at me, I think he was trying not to laugh "Actually, think I'd quite like it"

"Ditto"

-OG-


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: Another long chapter of escape to a Coronavirus free zone – My thanks go to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, I couldn't do this without all of you and thanks as always to Flossie for her invaluable contribution. **_

_**Let me be the one you need**_

"Carry me?"

I thought it'd be like our wedding day all over again, you know, the carrying me over the threshold thing, alright maybe not quite like that, I was bleeding paranoid that day, I was convinced that he'd hurt himself. He'd only just finished at Headley and was still supposed to be going for physio, wasn't he? His leg was still well dodgy, butI was getting on his bits keep going on about how it wasn't worth the risk so in the end he'd put his hand over my mouth and told me to shut up. Then he'd put his head back and roared with bloody laughter. God, we'd been so happy that day even when I lamped him one because he started messing and pretending that I weighed a bloody ton and lifting me was making him stagger. Believe me, I was a bleeding stick insect that day, a shadow of what I am now. The bugger had insisted he had no choice, that he had to carry me because he was a martyr to tradition and that it didn't matter if he put his back out, or that I'd already been living here with him for weeks. Muppet.

Today it's me, I'm the one insisting he has to carry me, well, not insisting exactly but I knew he'd want to make me happy and him sweeping me up in his arms, all masterful and in charge, would do that. I thought we'd be like Richard Gere and that girl in that film, you know the one where he was wearing all that white gear and was supposed to be an officer and gentleman. Like Charles. Alright I know if I'm being honest it's nothing like that, but Charles did make all that bloody fuss out of being a gentleman, didn't he? So, you can't blame me. On the other hand, I didn't reckon on him laughing like a drain and then throwing me up over his shoulder in a fireman's lift like I was a sack of spuds, did I? Got to say I probably wouldn't have thought it was such a great plan if I hadn't had maybe one too many on an empty stomach. But Claire and me, had had all these intentions of going for pizza or a burger or something and had, as usual, ended up with a bag of chips. Funny how that happens all the time, innit?

Charles knows me well enough to know that _explaining_ is not really my absolute best thing when I've had a couple, my tongue can run away with me a bit, well he should do if anyone does, but what I said to him wasn't just, you know, off the top of my head. Nor was it the booze talking. I might not have put it very well, I know that, but I had given it a lot of thought, had been going over and over it in my head, had actually bored myself bleeding shitless keep trying to work out what was best. Not that I knew why I was doing that when I knew all along he was right and that there were no guarantees. And you know what? I don't think there's even a right or wrong answer either.

But it is the right thing for me, well I'm sure as I can be, because I do love him, always have I suppose, and I miss him when he's not there, but if I keep on going the way I am it's never going to work. Being careful and looking out for number one all the time to make sure I don't get hurt will definitely fuck it up again. I've gotta trust. Can't keep looking out _signs,_ c_lues_ if you like, to show that he didn't mean what he said.

Course I might end up doing that anyhow, don't really know, do I?

I thought carrying me would be sexy. Sexier than just being grabbed and pulled behind him into bed, I mean, there was no doubt where we were going to end up, was there? But I hadn't reckoned on the fireman's lift or not being able to stop giggling, no-one could pretend that laughing like a pissed teenager and being in real danger of wetting myself was remotely sexy, because it wasn't, was it?

And then he threw me on the bed.

I mean what the fuck? He did, he actually threw me on my back on the bed, so that I bounced in the middle which definitely shut me up laughing. Okay maybe it was more him laughing so much he sort of let go of me, dropped me, but that still wasn't quite what I'd had in mind. But he looked so bloody happy I couldn't get mad at him or pout or sulk or anything.

"Oi … careful … what you doing?"

"Sorry"

"Bloody think so …" Alright, I'll admit it, I might just have pulled a bit of a pouty face "You don't sound it"

"Well I am"

He was still pissing himself so it was obvious to me that he was struggling to look even a bit as if he really was sorry. Not sure it worked.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you? You threw me on here"

"No, of course I didn't …"

Do you know, I think he was lying? He bloody did do it on purpose, I can tell.

"Why did you do that … you're s'posed to be a gentleman? And they're not meant to start chucking people about like that …"

"Who said?

"Who said what?"

"Who said I was a gentleman?"

"You did"

"I lied…"

"Yeah, knew that, didn't? It was just I didn't like to argue"

"Of course .."

It was bloody hard to sound serious when he was still laughing in a way that was making me want to laugh with him, his laugh is really catching. He had this huge smirk as he clambered up on the bed and then sort of crawled on all fours till he was right on top of me, and then settled with his legs between my thighs. Bloody trapping me. I couldn't move and even when I yelled a bit and used both my hands to push his chest as hard as I could, I got bloody nowhere. He's bleeding _solid._ Alright I might just possibly have been pretending a little bit that I was trying to shove him off, I was definitely pretending when I huffed and wound my legs round his hips instead. Now he was the one couldn't move, I had him trapped as well.

"Is this where you stop worrying about me being a bit drunk and take advantage?" I did that little batting up and down of my eyelashes "You know, now you've said you was lying about being a gentleman"

"Absolutely"

"Oh good .. so this the bit where we get naked then?"

"Now you're talking" The way he was on top of me meant I couldn't see his face as he kissed this trail round the bottom of my neck and then lifted his head a bit and kissed across my collar bones. I'd have had to shove his head back to see him properly, but I could hear from his voice he was still smirking "I'm not sure how you're going manage it, but do feel free to give it your best shot .." He began to laugh out loud again "I've got a feeling I'm going to enjoy this"

"Sex pest"

"Undoubtedly … are you complaining?"

"Yeah … I am … nah ...I'm not"

"Well come on, which is it? Not that it makes a scrap of difference because you're absolutely right and this is definitely where you get naked"

"Me? Nah … you gotta go first … I can't move, can I?" I shifted my hips a little bit against him just to prove it and then giggled when I heard him groan before he laughed out loud again. Think I made him right, he definitely enjoyed it.

"Ladies first … it's always _ladies first _… tell you what, I'll help"

He was still laughing as he shifted to the side a bit and then rested on his left arm before using his right hand to begin fiddling and fumbling around with my shirt buttons. I got to say, it wasn't exactly his smoothest move. It was obviously a bloody sight harder than he'd thought to get little shirt buttons undone one-handed, especially when I was doing sod all to help. Except giggling.

"Do you want me to do it … shall I help?"

"Are you criticising my technique, Mrs James?"

"Yeah …" It was bloody hard but I did manage to stop laughing long enough to speak properly, sort of "Nah, nah … course I'm not …. Would I? Nah …just saying …"

The grin on his face had turned into that frown between his eyes, the one that says he's concentrating really hard on something, not the one that says he's seriously pissed off or anything. He just looked at me steadily for a very long minute before he moved his hand up to my face and smoothed some stray bits of hair back, then tucked them behind my ear with his thumb before he went back to concentrating on getting my shirt buttons undone. Or trying to. With one hand.

"Nice"

He was more than a bit bloody pleased with himself when he finally managed to get the last one undone and had the biggest grin as he leaned back to look at my tits and made this sort of _shift yourself, lift yourself up _gesture. I did try, but it was actually almost bleeding impossible. Not so much the arching my back but the bloody staying up long enough for him to undo the clasp on my bra with one hand. Especially with the way he was fumbling. It would have been a bloody sight quicker and much easier if he'd let me do it, but then he had this huge happy grin back on his face when he finally finished his mission.

"Very nice"

"NICE? Did you just say _nice_? I thought you'd say something a bit more romantic than _nice …" _

"What's wrong with nice?"

What is it with blokes that they think saying something is _nice_ is paying you a huge compliment? Still, he obviously didn't expect an answer to that because I don't think he was actually listening to me anymore. He was far more interested in pulling my bra up under my chin out the way and then dropping all these little kisses down to where he was trying to get the button on my trousers undone with one hand. Which he did with hardly any struggle at all, seems he's much more used to undoing trouser buttons one handed than undoing bras. Obviously out of practise. I'm glad to say.

"My turn"

"Go on then"

Maybe it's because I haven't had that much practise at it or that I haven't got the knack anymore, but getting a 't' shirt off over someone's head is not the easiest when that someone is lying on top of you. When they're trapping you and they're not helping at all. But the minute I ran my hands over the muscles of his back he moved so I could reach him and then put his head back and closed his eyes. I ran my fingers over his chest and traced the little dark hairs on his pecs and it looked like he was having to make a huge effort to control his breathing as his eyes stayed glued shut and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip before he raked his teeth over it when I ran my hands over every ridge and flat bit of his stomach. Neither of us were laughing. The atmosphere had changed as I drifted my fingers over the line of dark hairs that led down from his navel and followed the trail with my fingertips till it disappeared into his waistband.

And then he captured my wandering little hand with his and trapped it to stop me going any farther before he bent his head and kissed me. Lots of soft gentle little kisses where his lips were barely grazing mine until I couldn't have told you where exactly I was. All that mattered was that it was my Charles who was there with me, it was my Charles that was holding me, that was kissing me. And those kisses were getting harder as I kissed him back just as hard and then more and more passionate until suddenly it didn't matter who took off what. We just both wanted to get naked, all that mattered to me was feeling his skin against mine, feeling one another, so we separated just long enough and far enough to pull off the rest of the clothes we had on. Then just grabbed hold of each other.

-OG-

"You okay?"

"Yeah … never better … you?"

"What do you think? … God, I love you, Mrs James"

"I know"

I don't know why it felt all different this time, couldn't really think of a reason when we'd just spent most of the last weekend in bed together and we'd had a lot of sex. A lot. We'd made love till every bloody muscle in my body had ached. Some I'd even forgotten I'd got. But now I was all cuddled up with my head tucked against his shoulder and his arm holding me close everything felt _right _for some reason. If I did perfect I'd say it was that, perfect the way I could hear the sound of the steady beating of his heart and could feel him breathing and my world just felt safe. I don't know why I thought it felt any different, actually don't think I was thinking that clearly about anything. My brain was like in a complete fog so it was actually quite hard to make my mouth talk sensibly at all, I just wanted to lie there next to him and just _be._

And I had the bloody yawns, didn't I? For some reason I'd started to yawn and was yawning so hard my bleeding eyes were watering and my bloody jaw was cracking and I couldn't seem to stop. Not the sexiest pillow talk ever, was it?

"You tired?"

"Yeah … Nah … just got the yawns … talk to me"

"I got a bit distracted earlier and forgot to ask … did you have a good day at work … any news of Marge and … um Ron?"

"Yeah, they're good … they say he's gonna be going home in a couple of days …dunno about the rest, can't really remember that far back … did you … have a good day?"

"Yup, not bad … it improved one hell of a lot in the last hour"

"Ditto"

"Lovely … Ummm … I spoke to mum today"

_What? The? Fuck?_

"Did you? … What did you wanna go and do that for?"

His eyebrows shot up as I sort of struggled to sit up a bit and move away from him. I was going to put my head on my own pillow, talking about his bloody mother wasn't exactly the sort of loving pillow talk we'd been enjoying, was it? Talk about a downer.

"Because … well, let me see now … because she's my mother and she rang me … what do you expect me to do?"

"Yeah … course, sorry" I wasn't "You didn't say anything to her about me, did you, about us?"

"Nope …not really … but Moll … I didn't need to … she already knew, in fact she told me she knew … well, she asked me if it was true… it would seem some little bird whispered in her ear"

"What? What little bird? Who you been telling? ….. Fuck … we wasn't gonna tell anyone …. for now …"

"Whoa … no-one … I haven't said a word to anyone, but it seems Amber put two and two together about you and me and came up with the right answer"

"Did you ring her …. Amber …. or go and see her?"

"No, of course not … I haven't spoken to her since the night I told her we were over, she obviously just worked it out, but I've got no idea why she'd think it was a good idea to tell my mother, fuck knows what she thought she was doing"

"I know…"

For a bloke who looks like him and who's been around the block a few times, has been married twice, once to me for fuck sake, as well as having been brought up by the mother from hell and has had plenty of other female friends, if that's what we're calling them, he really can be a bit bloody clueless about why women do things, can't he? Plain as the fucking nose on your face. Bloody Amber thinks his mum has got enough influence over him to make him see it her way and to make it that he'll dump me and get back to doing what the rest of them want.

"You know something Moll? I don't care … I am not in the slightest bit interested in why … or in what Amber thinks or what she wants or anything about her … she was a friend, at least I thought that's what she was and she's not anymore, okay? What I do care about is that you don't trust me … I'm not altogether fucking surprised, but I do care …"

"I know you do … and I'm sorry … I just got a bit … you know, I do trust you" It's almost true, you know, I expect I will in time, eventually "It's her I don't trust" And to be honest I don't trust his bloody mother either, well only about as far as I can throw her "What did you say to her?"

"I told her the truth, why wouldn't I? What? Did you think I was going to lie?"

"S'pose not" Yeah, that would have been good.

"Hey … there's nothing at all for you to worry about … I am not going to let anything or anyone hurt you, nothing is going to hurt us … okay?"

"Yeah, I s'pose"

This wasn't the lovely snuggly post-sex cuddle to end my day that I'd thought I was having, was it? I know I'm being a bit unreasonable and that he's got to talk to his fucking mother if she rings him, can't tell her to do one, but that doesn't mean I've got to like it, does it?

"What did she ring for anyhow?"

"Cracking the whip for Saturday … Dad's birthday … she's having some people over and wants us there … and there's some paperwork I need look at … need to sort … things to sign"

"You'll enjoy that … wearing your posh frock …"

"What do you mean _I'll _enjoy_ it_, you mean _we'll _enjoy it … although I'm not sure enjoy is the right word"

"We? Nah …Oh nah, not me, not on your bleeding life … anyhow I might gonna have to be somewhere … you know, go on a job" Tell you what I will be if I've got anything to do with it and if the gods are on my side, actually I'll be volunteering soon as I get in tomorrow "Can't say, can I? …Always gonna be tricky making plans when you don't know for sure"

"Indeed… but …. promise me one thing Moll, say you won't volunteer for anything before Saturday, I understand you might have to go, that it's your job, but I'd really like you to come with me if you can … Dad would love to see you"

You'll notice he didn't lie through his fucking teeth and say that his mother would love me to go with him? Because I can see her now with that tight cat's bum of a mouth issuing loving invitations towards me, can't you? I know I haven't told you much about his dad, but actually he's alright, not bad, looks a lot like Charles and sounds like him a bit as well, but he doesn't exactly figure very much in their house. Think he's just happy to pay the bills and let her get on with it.

One thing I do wish is that I knew how come my bloody husband can read me like a sodding book, even after three years he knew exactly what I was going to do, didn't he? I can't lie and tell him I'm off on a job somewhere when I'm not and then go and stop with Claire can I? And promising not to volunteer for anything means I'll have to keep everything crossed instead because can't think of anything worse than being at Royal Crescent. Birthday bash or no birthday bash. Shit. It's not even as if I can get pissed is it? Wonder if the old trout has invited Amber? Oh fuck, his mum, Rebecca and Amber, can't bleeding wait.

"Okay, you've talked me into it, at least I would love to say yes and go with you if I could, but can't, I've got nothing to wear, have I?"

"Stop making shit excuses, Mrs James …. Yes, you have …you can wear that gorgeous sexy black dress for me and not for some other bloke and those shoes that make you so tall"

"Nah, not the shoes, can't walk in them … don't wanna risk gangrene of the toes, do I?"

He shook his head and smiled "Only you … and I'm not even going to ask why the fuck you'd buy a pair of shoes that cripple you"

"Nah … wouldn't bother if I was you"

-OG-

"Nan

?"

"Fuck me …. That sounds just like our Moll .. don't tell me, it is you and you've lorst your bloody job 'n been evicted?"

"Nah course not, sorry I know I've been a bit shit about ringing"

"Yeah you have … so what's up?"

"Nothing"

"Well, unless it's that you've won the bleeding lottery and need me to help you spend it there's gotta be something?"

"I wish … but nah it's not that … 'n I haven't lost me job or anything bad, either …. it's nothing like that"

"It's good to hear that, but … 'ere you're not pregnant are you?"

"Nah .. told you it's nothing … "

"Don't give me that… come on tell me, what is it?"

"I just thought I'd ring and let you know …"

Bollocks, what the fuck had I been thinking? It was too bloody late now to say there was nothing to tell, I should never have started any of it, Nan's another one with an inbuilt sense for when I'm not necessarily telling the whole truth.

"Just thought I'd say … Charles is back"

She didn't say a bleeding word. We just sat there holding our phones in silence. I suppose we were both waiting for the other one to say something, I mean, I knew she hadn't hung up on me or been cut off or fainted with the shock or anything because I could hear the radio or the tele going in the background. And then she took a deep drag on her fag and made a racket blowing the smoke out so I knew she'd heard me, but she'd still said bugger all.

"Nan? …. You gonna say something" I waited for a bit to see if she was going to talk to me, but obviously not "Please … did you hear what I said? That he's back?"

"Yeah I heard but still trying to work out if you lost your bloody marbles, Moll? I mean, I dunno whether I should be saying a_bout bleeding time"_ I heard her take another deep drag on her fag "Or whether you're asking for help in getting his arse out of there"

"We're … getting back together, gonna give it another go"

"I see …. Well …. hope you know what you're doing, young lady … I mean, I used to think the world of him Moll, really thought he was a good 'un, you know? But gotta say I'm not over the fucking moon with him these days … and hearing he's just turned up out the blue after all this time … for what? To tell you he's bleeding sorry for being a dick … and now everything's good?"

"Nah … wasn't like that Nan … 'n that's not why he came back"

Fuck, I'd been so busy making sure she knew it wasn't all him, that I'd said something that was going to make her want to know why he'd come back, it wasn't going to help telling her he'd come back to get shot of me, was it? Whatever else I say I don't want to tell her _divorce,_ because that definitely is not going to be helpful.

"It wasn't all his fault Nan … it was mine 'n all, I had my moments … did stuff …but it don't matter now, we both said we was sorry and that we want to give one another a chance … so what I was wondering ….hoping really … was that you'd give mum and dad a bit of a heads up for me?"

There was a long silence and I heard her light another fag and then take a deep drag on it before she had a little cough when she inhaled.

"Nah … sorry Molls, I'd like to help … you know that, but nah, you gonna have to do it yourself this time, your mum and dad need to hear it from you, well, your mum does anyway .. just don't expect them to be over the bleeding moon, will you?"

She took another deep drag of her fag and coughed, but it probably wasn't a good time to talk to her about cutting back on the smoking, was it?

"But you just hear this young lady, you can tell him from me that if he steps out of line again, if he does anything at all I'll be there with a rusty knife and cut his bollocks off … I'll use 'em as earrings"

She made this funny sort of snorting noise, she obviously didn't give a shit about me saying it was my fault as well, not sure she'd even heard that bit.

"I'll tell him"

I'm going to, but only because I can't wait to see the look on his face. I also wondered exactly how long it would take Nan to tell mum, I reckon tea-time at the latest. Nan is the worst for being good at keeping things to herself, that's why I told her, innit? Mind you, didn't think it was the right time to say about the house, one step at a time is probably best, don't you think? I will need to work out what's best to say about _why_ he came back, though, I don't think telling them he wanted a divorce so he could have his parents gaffe is going to endear him to anyone, is it?

-OG-


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: Thank you for your ongoing support and kind words for Chapter 15, the party at Royal Crescent was getting far too long, so had to split it in two, won't be long till the second half. The trouble with the current situation is not only are we getting so used to it that it is rapidly becoming the norm and we are all going to be hermits, but that I probably have too much time to spend on expanding the chapters of my alternative universe … am in grave danger of being the written equivalent of Mogadon – anyway I hope you enjoy this snapshot of their time together before their real lives click back in. Thanks as always to Flossie for asking the questions.**_

_**I Close My Eyes and Dream Away**_

"She's down there now sharpening 'em … bet you.."

"Shall I take a wild guess what we're talking about here?"

"Your mum, that's who … bet you any money you like she's down in that fucking kitchen sharpening them Sabatie whotsits of 'ers ….getting ready to use 'em on me"

"Of course she is Molly … why didn't I think of that?" Charles put his head back and roared with laughter, he seems to be finding it dead funny for some reason, alright maybe it is a bit and maybe I am exaggerating … just a little bit "Of course she's not … don't be so bloody daft …"

"You don't know that … and stop laughing at me, you don't know so you just remember when you can't find me later on that you might gonna need to check the cellar … except it'll probably be too late by then … you'll be bloody sorry you didn't listen when I've bled out"

"Absolutely devastated … I'll never forgive myself .…. and the worrying thing is that there's not even a hint of you being a little bit dramatic, is there? Idiot … she wasn't trying to _lure _you into the kitchen to chop you up … she was offering to make you a cup of tea"

"I already said, you don't know that … and who you calling an idiot?"

"I think I do know … and you, who else …. but hey, have it your way"

"You'll see … and stop bleeding laughing at me, will you? This is serious"

"Indeed"

"Stop laughing"

I was joking, sort of, his mum had been all over me like a bloody rash when we got here so I couldn't help being a bit worried what she was up to. Not that I really believed she was going to chop me up or anything, but even after all this time of not seeing her I can still tell she hasn't got a sincere bone in the whole of her body. It's all fake. All of it. All that bloody sweetness and gushiness and the patting my fucking arm, I mean, I know when someone's faking it and lying through their teeth, should do shouldn't I? And her saying stuff like how pleased she is to see me. She's not, believe me. The only thing that would actually please her is to be told she's never going to have to clap eyes on me in this house ever again. That act is all for his benefit and she might fool him with it, but it's fucking wasted on me and it's not as if there's anyone else around to be impressed is there? Actually, I really can't work out how someone as clever as him can be fooled by it, alright you don't have to tell me, I do know, she's his mum, right?

But just because she's his mum doesn't mean I was up for hanging out with her while he went off to look at all this legal shit, the looks I was getting when he wasn't watching were bloody full of evils and her mouth had that pinched up look like a cat's bum that she's so bloody good at. Must remember to tell her that she wants to watch out else she'll get wrinkles, and that all the Botox in the world won't help, miserable old faggot. Okay, maybe I won't. I knew I should go for a cuppa when she offered, it was an opportunity for me to be nice, but to be honest, I really quite enjoyed giving her a sickly smirk of my own and turning her down. I had had all these good intentions, all these promises to myself, not to him, hadn't said a word about it to him, I just wanted him to notice it was me that was being nice and grown up. But as things turned out it was just as well I'd kept schtum. The thought of making allowances and being nice and patient and seeing both sides and all the rest of the shit suddenly seemed a bit much for some reason. Let's face it, when it came down to it there was no way I could face sitting there _bonding_ over a cup of horrible gnat's piss that tastes and smells funny and pretending we're best mates. I'm only guessing here that's what I'd get given, because that's what I remember, although it could be that it's pricey enough for her to keep it to impress the other witches. Didn't want to find out, did I? Any more than I fancied having a nice little chat, I mean what the fuckety fuck would I talk to her about?

So, I lied and told her I needed to hang my dress up or some such bollocks and came straight up here instead. It felt bloody weird being back here to be honest, I thought I'd never set foot in this place ever again and I'd definitely never be in this bedroom, let alone in the bed where we'd had sex that first time. It all felt so long ago now. But nothing's changed, nothing at all, not the curtains or the rugs or anything, although not sure why they should have, but even the duvet cover looks like it's the same one. I know it's been a while, but that's what I think. She will have washed it mind since the last time I was here, I mean, I might think all sorts about her, well I do, but dirty slut isn't one of them.

I did not want to come here to this sodding party tonight, I am not going to lie and pretend I had this sudden change of heart, but we had to, well Charles did and he said he wasn't coming without me. I'd tried to tell him that he wanted to drive down, get the bloody thing over with and then go home, but okay, I did know that was probably not going to happen, because that meant one of us couldn't have a drink. You'd better believe that was not going to be me and Charles didn't exactly fall over himself to volunteer either. But he didn't see a problem with stopping here, he just said I should ignore her if she upset me. Easy for him to say.

I don't know why but even my dress doesn't feel like it did when I wore it to that party with Claire. Well, okay, when I wore it to try and show him what he was bloody well missing when he and Amber were together. Well that was what I thought at the time. I mean, the dress is the same, that hasn't changed, and I haven't changed either, not to my knowledge, I haven't put on any extra padding on my bum or anywhere, have I? I think it's just knowing I'll be wearing a dress that cost a bleeding ridiculous amount of money just so I can stand around with a bunch of posh people who think I'm rubbish because of the way I talk.

Okay, maybe if I really put my mind to it for about a million years, I could admit that it's probably not the worst thing I've ever had to do in my life. Memories of running round a compound in full kit in 40o heat in Afghan while some sadist bloke yelled at me and made me sweat like a pig could maybe give it a run for its money. Maybe.

"Be nice to me … you better or I'll call Nan and tell her"

He had tried to look as if he was scared when I told him about the punishment Nan was promising to dish out if he upset me, and had raised those bloody eyebrows of his before he gave this little shout of laughter to show it would take more than that to bother Captain James. But his face had been a picture.

"I'm always nice"

"Nah you're not …. Nan means what she says you know; she'll do it if I tell her"

"I know … tell her what? No, don't do that, don't call her … anything but that"

He made this big show of clutching his balls and pretending he was in agony, and then burst out laughing. It doesn't matter what he says, I really don't think he's taking it seriously. I am going to make him come with me when I go to tell them he's back, let's see if he thinks it's all so funny then.

"You don't need to tell me, I know she bloody means it … she's a very frightening lady … well she scares me, that's why you're not going to tell her"

"You might have to bribe me"

"Yep … anything … you can have anything you want"

"Oh good, I'll remember you said that"

I'd been on pins waiting for the call from my mum, a call that hadn't come, not that day or any other one since then. She might not have phoned, but Bella had sent me a text demanding all the sordid details, her words, and letting me know that Nan had done what she'd said she wouldn't and it had all hit the fan at home. Apparently, dad had kicked off big time, now there's a bloody surprise, and had gone on a rant demanding mum promise not to call me, that she had to wait and let the snotty little mare, that's me by the way, have the decency to call and tell them herself. As if my dad would know anything about acting decent. But you know what, I did think it probably would be best if I let it all calm down a bit before going to see them. Well, before me and him went to see them. I can't see why I shouldn't drag him with me, I mean, why should I be the only one?

"Do I look okay?"

"You look … umm, let me have a look at you?" He put his hands on my waist and then pretended to be looking me up and down and leering like some sort of sexist pervert pig until I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed "You look, you look absolutely bloody beautiful … gorgeous … and so fucking tall … didn't you say those shoes cripple you? I thought you said you weren't going to wear them again?"

"Nah, chucking them would be a waste … 'n I said it hurt to walk in them so I'm gonna stand still instead"

"Molly…" He shook his head and laughed at me at the same time, and you know, I love that I can still make him laugh like that without even trying "You really are something else, Mrs James, what am I going to do with you?"

"Is that good or bad?"

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that"

He shook his head again and then went to stand in front of the mirror to finish getting dressed, apparently, he's got no intentions of going to his mum's party in his boxers and socks. Bit of a shame that.

"Is that what you're wearing?"

"Indeed … well, and the rest … well .I was … why ….. what's wrong with it?"

He'd just started to pull his shirt off the hanger so it was actually half on and half off when he stopped dead and looked at me with this puzzled frown on his face.

"I thought you liked this shirt"

"Did you?"

I do like it, it's a nice shirt, it's really nice and blue shirts really suit him, there isn't anything wrong with any of it at all, well not that I can see, just as long as he's wearing it for me and not because he knows it looks good on him and he's out to impress his bleeding groupies. Probably down to me, I can remember telling him once years back that I fancy him something rotten in blue, I've got a feeling I might even have said a little bit more than that, might even have pulled it off of him. Probably shit faced at the time.

"Yeah … alright… it does, it bloody suits you but then you know that already you vain bugger, that's why you're planning on wearing it"

"I resent that, I am not vain … and that is not why I was going to wear it, I chose it because I thought that's what you'd like me to wear"

"Oh … really? Is that really why?" I'm sorry but I love it when he says things like that and looks at me like that, as if he really doesn't get it "You saying you're wearing it because you think I'll fancy you in it?"

"Yup …something like that … well …was I right, is it going to work?"

"Might have to think about it" Of course it is, I'm just not going to say, am I? Not just like that "Just … you do know I'm a sure thing, don't you?"

"Lovely … Tell you what, while you're thinking about it, how about you let me get the rest of my stuff on woman? …We've got a party to go to" He was laughing as he pulled the shirt on and started to button it and then leaned a bit closer to the mirror "I need a bloody haircut … must get it done"

"Nah you don't … well, yeah alright maybe you do, I can give it a trim if you like?"

"No thanks"

"Coward …"

"Undoubtedly"

"You are gonna have a shave though, aren't you? Your mum'll freak if you go to her party looking like that"

"Will she?" He looked interested but not particularly bothered at the thought and then shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, you bloody know she will … I mean, I don't mind but she will"

I knew when I put my fingers up and stroked his face that he really loves to feel me run my fingers over his stubble and couldn't help having a little smirk when his expression changed and he bit his lip. I knew that if I played my cards right I could probably get him to give the party a swerve as he put his head back and closed his eyes. But then he gave himself a sort of little shake and went back to trying to concentrate on getting dressed.

"You know your mum will take one bleeding look and tell you look like a bloody down and out and then she'll blame me …"

"How can she blame you?"

"She'll find a way … come on, you gonna shave or what?"

"Nope"

"I'll make it worth your while …"

"Thought you were a sure thing anyway"

"I can change my mind you know…"

-OG-

You got to hand it to her, she knows how to throw a bleeding party, even a little one like Ted's birthday thing. The place looks fucking amazing, the sitting room is all sparkling and tarted up with flowers and candles like some posh hotel or something, and you know what, it's bloody hard when I look round and see it like this to think it's all going to be Charles' one day. And mine I suppose. Looking at it now I can well understand why Amber wanted him for his house. Alright there might possibly have been one or two other reasons as well but I'm not going to think about them, every time I do, I get a bit bothered she's going to pop out from under her stone any second with that stupid smirk on her face. And I know if she does, I might be going to have to slap it off her, just might have to remind her that he's taken.

I've always known her name is Etta, but had never called her it, or ever actually called her anything at all. I've just avoided giving her a name or a title and you can't call someone _Oi You_ all the time, can you? She's not my mum so no way am I calling her that, and she went all like she was doing me a huge bleeding favour when I called her Mrs James and she said I could call her Etta. Wasn't going to do that, didn't want to, did I? We're not mates.

Ted was standing with his back to the fireplace with a glass in his hand and I know I haven't seen him for a bit, but I got this big shock when I saw how like a Charles with white hair he is these days. I'd forgotten how tall he is, like Charles, and that he's still pretty fit looking, but I've also got to say I was pretty sure the glass wasn't his first. Not that he looked pissed exactly, if he was then he was much better at holding his booze than either his son or me, his legs still looked rigid but he had that look on his face that said he wasn't feeling much pain, that he wasn't feeling much of anything actually. Lucky him.

"'ello Ted"

"Well, well, well … Molly my pet … how lovely to see you sweetheart ... let me have a look at you" He sort of grabbed me by the shoulders and held me away from him a bit and I could see how carefully he was focussing "Every bit as beautiful as I remember … Charles is a very lucky man"

"Ummmm … thank you … you look … ummm … pretty well yourself … Oh and Happy Birthday"

I knew the witch couldn't be anywhere near because if she had been, he wouldn't have said any of that, I certainly don't remember me and him ever being on those sort of terms before. I don't think he ever used to take much notice of me, so I'm pretty sure it's got a lot to do with him being pissed at her for some reason, or maybe it's that he's just plain pissed. Maybe it's the booze talking. Because I was right about that. I suppose growing up with my dad made me a bit of an expert at spotting these things, although Ted wasn't yet totally rat-arsed like my dad would be if it was his birthday. Ted's eyes were just a tad glazed and there was a bit of a fixed grin on his gob, but then soon as he got close enough to kiss me on my cheek, I had to hold my breath. Trouble was I had this huge urge to give in and giggle and then find Charles and warn him he better watch out that his dad didn't get too close to the candles, his breath was enough to blow us all to smithereens. Mind you if I had to live with her like he did, I'd probably drink too much as well. Actually, I've got a feeling I'd be a bloody raging alcoholic by now.

"Thank you … did I hear you say it's my birthday? Is it? Is that what all this nonsense is about?"

Just for a minute I did think he might be losing the plot, but then saw the look on his face that said he was pissing about, anyway surely if it was for real Charles would have said something? He'd have warned me, wouldn't he?

"Yeah … today … it's your 21st … that's what I was told, although must say you don't look that old"

"Flattery will get you everywhere, pet … so… how have you been, it must be very strange for you coming back here like this … after all this time"

"Well, yeah, I s'pose … you know… it's okay, not that bad … it's ummm .. a special occasion though, innit?"

What the fuck are you supposed to say to something like that? And he's obviously expecting me to say _something_, and when is my ever-loving bloody husband going to stop talking to whoever those bloody people are he's talking to and come and rescue me from his pissed relative? He's supposed to be getting me a drink not giving someone his fucking life history.

"Sorry Moll … here …"

I don't actually remember the last time I was quite so bloody pleased to see a Vodka, or a husband for that matter. Alright so maybe I always feel a little bit like that when I'm out and am about to get my first drink of the evening, not when I'm at home, I haven't got a drink problem, honestly, and not normally about seeing him. But I was a bit grateful, alright a lot grateful and grabbed the glass to swig half of it in one go. It was going to be a bloody long, bloody tedious, bloody _awkward_ evening, I'd been dead right about that, but at least his Bossman sixth sense had kicked in and told him I needed him to rescue me.

"Hello Dad … Happy Birthday"

"Thank you … hello son, your beautiful wife tells me it's my 21st, but I think she might just be being kind … I have a feeling she's humouring an old man"

"You're not old"

"See? … I told you …. lovely girl your Molly…"

"I know …. She's fucking awesome … and she's always kind"

"Oi … Do you mind not talking about me like I'm not 'ere"

"Sorry"

They were both grinning at me as I sort of pretended to be getting annoyed, although I'm not altogether sure I was playing around. It really pisses me off when people do that, alright when he does that. And I'm not sure how it happened that his arm had somehow found its way round my shoulders and his hand had buried itself in my hair as his thumb stroked the back of my neck. Still I couldn't help wondering where she was and if she was watching. Etta I mean, not Amber. I haven't seen hide nor hair of Ginger Barbie so maybe I was wrong about that. Hope so.

I did get a bit of a shock when I looked across and saw little Sammie over by the door, I say little, but I can't believe how bloody much he's changed. He still looks like a clone of his dad, that hasn't changed, I'd know him anywhere and I got no idea why I expected him to still be little like he was, kids grow, don't they? My own brothers will tell you, but Sam's got so bloody big and grown up looking and I guess if he's here it must mean Rebecca is here somewhere as well, this evening is getting better and better by the minute. I am not jealous of her, I'm not, honestly I'm not, if Charles wanted to be with her he's had plenty of opportunity, they've both had plenty of chances, it's just that she always used to make me feel little and scruffy and just a little bit shit. Still that was three years ago, and a lot of stuff has happened since then so there's no way I should be letting old stuff get to me. This is not some bleeding competition to see who he loves the most, and even if it was, I'd win. I think. I just need to keep reminding myself of that.

"SAMMIE … over here"

"Hello Granddad"

Sam hugged Ted without a flicker of a flinch, so maybe he's well used to kissing someone whose breath is 90% proof, hope not. Ted smells like the Earl at closing.

"Happy Birthday Granddad"

He'd still got the same happy grin on his face when he moved away from his grandfather, so maybe he doesn't have much of a sense of smell.

"Hello Molly … I knew you'd be here, I heard Gran tell mummy … it's been a long time since I saw you"

Oh shit, wonder what the fuck he heard her say about me? Whatever it was, I bet it wasn't good. Don't think I want to know details actually.

"Yeah …it's been a while hasn't it? It's good to see you mate … so, how you been? 'Ere … what they been feeding you on? You're nearly as tall as me"

"I don't know … just … _food_?"

Sam giggled, he's still enough of a kid to laugh when a so-called grown-up says something incredibly stupid. Of course, he's fucking grown, it's been three years, I'll be asking him how school is going in a minute. I mean could I get any worse? He still looks just like Charles who really isn't helping at all, I heard him give this little snort because of how stupid I sound.

"Well, actually, I think he might even be taller than you when you're not wearing those ridiculous shoes"

"Shut up"

Alright, I've got to admit, that did sting a bit, it hurt my feelings didn't it? He'd said he thought these shoes were sexy or I looked sexy in them or something and that was the whole bloody reason I was even risking having my feet fucking drop off, not because I like being in agony or anything, although at least they're numb now.

"I thought you liked them?"

"I do" The bugger is laughing at me again "But you have to …."

"Ssshhhh" Mr Happy's finger is almost up his nose as he sprayed out this loud shushing noise, and made a face towards where the old witch is looking round at everyone with a satisfied smirk on her face "It's her big moment … now … all of you, everyone … you need to shut up and listen carefully … there'll be a written exam afterwards so make sure you don't miss any of it"

"DAD"

I think Charles might just have noticed how bloody ratted his dad actually is, he's definitely not amused. I've seen that look on his face enough times over the years to know it spells trouble for someone as he gave this sort of warning nod in Sam's direction. I suppose I got to admit it was a bit, what do you call it, inappropriate, alright, actually it was bloody rude, but still can't help being glad it's not me in the deep shit this time. It's bloody hard enough as it is with trying not to laugh.


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N: As promised the second half of the birthday party in Bath **_

_**Nothing Compares to You**_

"What's going on …?"

"Haven't got the faintest fucking idea …"

"Oi…"

I know, I really got no business snapping back at him like that, it's not nice, not when I'm supposed to be being all understanding and that, and something's going on but it's bloody hard when someone bites your fucking head off and when you got to whisper. He's got that bloody look on his face that says he doesn't want someone overhearing, which they probably will because it's gone bleeding quiet in here and he said he didn't know, but I can see that whatever it is he's fucking furious about it, definitely not seeing the funny side, is he? I think it might be just me thinks it's a bit funny, but I must not giggle whatever I do. Why is it that as soon as laughing is some sort of bleeding crime there's this huge bit of me wants to do it even more? Is that just me do you think, it's nowhere near the first time, is it?

"Sam … go and find your mother… now please … do as I say"

Shit, Captain James has turned up and is issuing bleeding orders, for fuck sake he'll be expecting standing to attention and saluting any minute and I know it's really not my bleeding business, I do know we've only been back for about two ticks and I haven't suddenly become expert or anything, but, bloody hell, it's not Sam's fault, is it? Whatever's going on here, none of it is down to him, poor little bugger hasn't done anything so why the fuck is his dad barking at him like that? Beyond me.

"_Charles…_"

"What?"

"Yeah alright, keep your bloody hair on …"

I thought I was doing a good job at the meaningful little jerk of my head thing, you know, raising my eyebrows and doing the frown and the little nod at Sam, but doesn't look like Charles has got a clue what I'm on about. Don't know why not, but short of saying 'shut up and stop taking it out on the poor little sod' there isn't much I can do is there? And alright, I know, _keep out and your bloody gob shut Molly,_ but I never was any good at that, was I? And it's not me trying to tell him what to do, I was just trying to drop a little hint, trying to _tip him off_ in case he hadn't realised. Honestly that's all. Alright then, maybe I was trying to tell him to stop being a bit of a shit with his kid, a bit, but I wanted to stop all this, whatever it is, from getting out of hand.

I didn't want to be at this fucking party in the first place. You know I'd miles prefer to be sitting on my sofa watching Netflix, eating Pringles and drinking too much like I always used to on a Saturday night. Getting pissed on my own had sometimes been a bit shit, but it was far more fun than this was turning out to be, and it wasn't like I could get pissed here was it? But, if there's going to be a James family bust-up then there's no way, I want to be part of it, not even as a looker-on, thanks very much. Anyway, you can bet your sweet life it'd end up being my fault in some way. Yeah, I know, but even if that does sound like I'm being a bit paranoid it doesn't mean it's not true.

And it's all a bit shit for Sammie, innit? Poor little sod obviously doesn't know what the fuck's gone on, although come to think of it he's not the only one, all he knows is that his dad has suddenly got very shirty. Alright very shitty.

"Molly … I asked you a question, can you answer me please … what do you want?"

"Well … for starters you can stop talking to me like that … I don't know what you think you're doing, but stop shooting the bleeding messenger, will you?"

No point in pulling _that _face again because Sam had already turned round to do as he was told and was slowly trudging off, probably going off to look for his mum and you could tell just by looking at the back of him how he was feeling. Poor little sod still had his head down and was looking at his feet when he said something to her, something she obviously didn't like, judging from the look she shot over at Charles, she was bloody livid with him, and I can't say I blame her actually.

The minute the penny dropped there was this look of horror shot across his face and even though it disappeared pretty bloody quickly behind that mask of his, I could see that he'd woken up to what I'd been trying so bloody hard to tell him.

"Oh fuck … sorry Moll … look, just hang on here … don't go anywhere … won't be a minute"

He grabbed hold of the top of my arm and gave it a little shake and then went haring off after Sam which was fine and all the rest of it, he had to didn't he? Well, it was the least he could do, but it left me bloody high and dry, you know, standing there on my own like a spare prick at a wedding again. I was stranded, left looking around and trying to look like I didn't care. Not that Rebecca was exactly thrilled to talk to him, you could see that even from where I was standing, she was far more bothered about putting the smile back on Sam's face than she was with talking to Charles about what had gone on. And she definitely wasn't very bothered with trying to make him feel better, she was too busy getting Sam to look at the cards on the table so he could help her find their right seats. For fuck sake_,_ what's all that about,_ name cards_ to tell you where you've got to sit? When it's family? Have you ever heard anything like it, I mean, who the fuck thinks that's a good idea?

But you know something, I was buggered if I was going to stand around looking like a bit of lost property waiting for him to come back and claim me, and I'm sick of the feeling that everyone's looking at me and thinking he's abandoned me so he can go and see his _wife_. I'm not saying I want us to be joined at the bloody hip, am I? I don't. I'm quite happy to get on without him, I'm not just Molly James, his bleeding wife, I'm me, I'm Molly Dawes and I don't need him to be always looking after me. I'm going to find where Etta wants me to park my bum instead of standing around feeling like a spare part, because there's something tells me it's odds on I won't be anywhere near Charles. Actually, wish I'd put money on it, because needless to say she's put me as far away as she possibly can, I'm right down the other end of the table. The only way I could be any further away is if I was sitting out in the fucking hall. The card with my name on it is almost the last one at the naughty end next to Ted and with a couple of kids that must belong to someone here. Not Sam though, and not Charles neither, they're at the other end with the important people, with Rebecca and bloody Etta and all it needs now is for Ginger Barbie to crawl out the woodwork and we'll have the sodding hat trick.

His mum obviously doesn't care she's telling the world what she thinks is my place in her scheme of things, she couldn't make it any plainer that she doesn't see me fitting in anywhere, could she? Not that I'm going to give her, or anyone else for that matter, the satisfaction of letting them see I'm a little bit peeved, alright that I'm upset, a bit tearful. I'm going to pretend I don't fucking care and I am not going to notice my husband keep jerking his bloody head at me and twitching his eyes and trying to get me to go where he is. Because I am not going to. If he wants to sit with me, if he wants to show the world that we're together and solid, he can come down this end or he can tell that bloody mother of his to sort it out.

In spite of Ted saying all that stuff that had the shit hitting the fan, I don't think anyone has actually done what she wanted and moved through the double doors to go and sit at the table. Almost everyone is still standing around drinking and chatting so that she's started flapping around trying to get them to hurry up so they can start serving the food. I think she's getting bothered that everyone's getting pissed while they wait to get fed, and the catering bloke is not best pleased either, he keeps bobbing in and out and waving his fucking hands about and talking in her ear. I got a feeling they're fed up with waiting to serve. I do hope it means she's picked something show-off stupid like a souffle. Actually, don't know about anyone else, but I'm bleeding starving, and Ted is definitely not the only one who's getting a bit happy, I mean, not me, I'm not talking about me, more's the pity, but if it takes much longer they're all going to be under the fucking table not sitting at it.

"I think Charles is trying to attract your attention, Molly"

"Is he?"

I knew that didn't I? As soon as we'd sat down I could feel his eyes on me again and knew exactly what look he'd have on his face, but if he thinks I'm going to run up there and find somewhere to sit and have her look at me like I'm something she's stepped in, he's got another think coming. Alright, I know, I could go and sit on his lap, could really piss her off, but I'm making a point, or you could say I might just be sulking.

"Oh well he can see me, knows where I am, doesn't he?"

There was a bit of a lull for a bit as everyone sorted out drinks and bread and the catering people finally dished up some sort of fish thing, no starter I noticed, in spite of the cutlery. I couldn't help wondering if it was something that had been wrecked with waiting. Alright, wishing it was. But at least with the food finally appearing I could pretend to be concentrating on eating as I carried on ignoring Charles at the same time. Not sure what exactly it was we were eating, just that it was fish and was no doubt something posh, but there had been this horrible moment when I saw the shells on the top and thought it was oysters. That was until Ted said they were clams which I've never had before. Not sure I've even seen them and don't think I'd be bothered if I never had them again either. To be honest I don't know a whole lot about fish, except it usually comes with chips and that this didn't. Charles tried to get me to eat some oysters once, told me how he loves them and how they're supposed to be all sexy, but I don't care what anyone says, there's nothing sexy about trying to swallow something that reminds you of a mouthful of snot.

"You know he's very proud of you, don't you?"

Ted was sobering up quite quickly now that we were sitting there having a bit of a contest to see who could eat the most bread, a competition that reminded me of the 50 sausage challenge, except for less gross. And either the bread was mopping up the booze really fast or he'd been playing to the gallery, it looked like he'd been pretending to be more pissed than he actually was for some reason.

"If you say so"

"I do … and you know Molly, Charles knows he made a very stupid mistake when he let you go the way he did … and he told me he's very proud of how you've moved on in your new job …" Shit, what was this, was Ted writing a dating profile for my husband do you think? "He told me that if someone was to have a heart attack, you'd know exactly what to do to save their life"

"Did he? Well yeah … yell _help_ and shout loud as I can for someone to dial 999 … then hide"

"I'm sure that's not true"

He was laughing, as I sort of knew he would. Ted might not be as pissed as I'd thought and he might be being lovely and everything but I don't want to talk to him about my job. I mean, I'm quite happy to talk about wanting to travel and where I want to go and that, but I've never before had any sort of proper conversation with him about anything and talking about my job is something I hate, I hate that it makes me sound like I'm boasting or something or saying how clever I think I am.

"You know she really did meet her match when you arrived, didn't she?" I don't know what the bloody hell he's talking about now "I don't know how much you've noticed, Molly, probably a great deal, a bright girl like you, but my wife is only really happy when people are doing exactly as she wants … and sometimes that just isn't possible … it just doesn't happen … sometimes she comes across someone like you, someone she knows she can't control" Oh fuck what's bought this on? He's talking about Etta and is looking up the table to the posh end and watching her queening it over everyone "No matter how much effort she makes, no matter how hard she's tried and believe me she's tried, she hasn't yet managed to find someone she considers to be suitable"

"Suitable for what?"

"Charles"

I'm not sure if it's slipped his bloody notice who he's talking to, but Charles has already got a wife, me, so why are we talking about his mum trying to find him one she thinks is better?

"Never was gonna be me though, was it Ted? She thinks I'm too common … well, s'pose she might have a point, I am a bit"

"Nonsense … Etta never …. She didn't find Rebecca … ideal .. either… not that it was ever any of her business"

"Oh…" Bugger me, and Rebecca could never be called common, could she? Not in a million.

"Has Charles ever told you why he chose to join the army in the first place?"

"Yeah … well not really, he just said he never wanted to do anything else, that it was all he'd ever wanted … why?"

"What was it made you want to join up?"

"Dunno really, it was a bit … it was me 18th and I was a bit pissed and a bit … well, a bit unhappy I s'pose, bloody knew that nothing was gonna change if I stayed where I was doing what I was doing, knew my life was gonna be shit and if I wanted it different I had to get away from home … saw the recruiting thing and decided to have a go …. Why?"

"Have you ever wondered why Charles wanted to do the same thing?"

"Nah … course not, it was what he wanted … it was his _ambition"_

"Maybe …. But I think if you asked him you might find that there were a lot of things that were not so very different for him … he was very young when he made the decision on the army … very much as you did, he wanted … he decided that he needed to get away from … from home"

Ted suddenly shut up talking and looked back to the other end of the table for a minute at them all chatting and laughing and then carefully put his knife and fork down side by side neatly on the plate. I think he might have just woken up that he was saying stuff he shouldn't to someone he shouldn't. I got the feeling that if what he was said was true, Charles would really prefer to tell me himself, but he hadn't said anything like that, had he? What the fuck would he have needed to get away from? He'd had everything.

"I blame myself … I stood back and took the easy way out for far too long and if there's one thing I regret more than anything else, it's that I let the situation drift on the way I did … I chose the quiet life and it's taken a very long time for me to … wake up"

"Sorry, Ted … but I don't know what you're on about … what do you mean?"

"Don't bother your pretty little head about it" Oh good, now he's patronising me to fuck, and I can't say anything, can I? Lovely "Didn't you tell me this was supposed to be my birthday party? So …come on then … let's get the … Sam, Sammie … did someone say something about a cake? … And it had better have candles"

There was a whole lot of shifting around of bums and laughing and loud chattering and a bit of racket as plates got cleared away and then everyone sort of went quiet and held their breath and watched Sam very carefully carry a birthday cake down the room. He had this triumphant look on his face as he put it on the table in front of his granddad and then very carefully straightened the candles that had got knocked sideways before Charles lit them.

"Hey … when I said I wanted candles I didn't expect all these" Ted pit his hands up and pretended to move back from the heat of the lighted candles, which sent Sam into a fit of giggles.

"You have to have one candle for every year old you are Grandad … that's how it works"

"But Sam there are far too many here … Molly said I'm 21 ….so I should have 21 candles not hundreds …"

"There's not hundreds ..." Sam was trying not to laugh and failing, it looked like all the earlier shitty stuff was long forgotten as Ted pretended to lose count of the candles so that he kept starting the count again "Molly's wrong, Daddy said that that's how many we need"

"Noooo … Molly's not wrong … must be your Dad's wrong …"

"No, he's not …"

"Well in that case you'd better help me blow them out, I don't think I've got enough puff for all that lot"

"Hey"

He put his hands lightly on my shoulders and gave me a little shake as Ted and Sam blew repeatedly trying to put out the equivalent of the Blackpool Illumination of candles and everyone sang this very untuneful rendition of Happy Birthday. I knew he'd been right behind me the whole time when his dad had been playing silly buggers with Sam, I'd just got this sense of him being there, well that and I could smell his smell.

"'ello"

I tilted my head back to look up at him and then leaned back until I could feel I was resting against him, for some reason I wasn't pissed at him anymore. I think I was a bit bored with being annoyed.

"You alright?"

"Of course I'm not, how could I possibly be alright when I've been sitting there watching my beautiful wife enjoying herself flirting with my father … and ignoring me"

"You jealous?"

"Yup"

"I was not flirting…and you was the one who went off … not me … what was I s'posed to do, sit here in bloody silence? Your dad was the one talking to me"

"I know and I'm sorry about all this … the way the whole thing has turned out Moll… it's all been a bit fucked up hasn't it?"

"It's had some help … every time I looked up, I kept on expecting to see Amber hanging off of you down at the posh end …"

"What posh end? What are you talking about, and she would not have been … what did you call it, hanging off me? I mean, I don't know where you got that idea from, but…" He paused and shook his head "You're right about one thing … she would certainly have been here if it hadn't been for dad, Mum took it on herself and decided to invite her apparently, but didn't bother mentioning it to him and dad had a bloody fit when he found out…"

He waited, he probably knew, or thought he did, that his dad wasn't going to be the only one who had a fit, I think he knew it was entirely possible I might be going to throw a hissy so he was getting it out of the way.

"Apparently, he insisted that mum had to call and un-invite her, there was an unholy row, a scene if you like, tempers got a little frayed and that's putting it mildly … Dad won"

"What … and she told you all of this?"

"Of course not … can you imagine it? Nope, Becca told me"

"Rebecca? I thought … don't matter … but that's what your dad was talking about when he said … never mind … it really don't matter" Obvious now what Ted had been on about when he said to me about putting his foot down and it being about time or something, wasn't it? "Your dad's alright"

"Yup he is"

"What did you say to your mum? I mean, you did say something didn't you?"

"Uh uh … nope, not yet … I'll have a word in the morning"

He shook his head, and yeah, alright there was a big bit of me wanted him to wade in there and tell her where to get off, first for asking bloody Amber even though she knew I was going to be there and then for sticking me down at the other end of the fucking table. Bet she planned to have Amber at the top end with her. And Charles. But even I could see that this probably wasn't the best time for him to front her about it, or the best place either for the sort of full-on slanging match which would be what the Dawes family would be having by now if it was us. I mean, them. We call it clearing the air and I suppose you could call it that, maybe, but nothing beats a bloody good row for sorting things does it? A bit of yelling, and a lot chucking stuff and threatening violence, that sort of thing, but perhaps not. Not here. And not right now. Too much pricey stuff could get broken.

Must admit though I'm a bit surprised Amber said _yes_ that she'd come, wonder which bit of Charles telling her to fuck right off she didn't get? He said he'd made it plain to her that they weren't going to happen, he'd told her he was back with his wife, with me, so all I can say is that she can't have much pride, can she? Can you imagine being happy sitting at the table with both of us like that? And she didn't know I was going to be sitting down in the cheap seats, did she? Not when Etta invited her. Not unless the old witch promised she could have a free run at him, and surely not even that old cow would think she could get away with that? Or maybe the thought of getting her hands on this house like Charles said she wanted, was enough to make Amber blind to everything else. And before anyone says anything, I know she has to have been here with him in the past. She has to have slept in his room, in his bed, with him, has to have or Ted wouldn't know her, would he? But I'm doing my best to try not to think about that bit.

Sometimes he knows how I'm feeling almost before I know myself, which can be bloody annoying and I know he knows because he just pulled me up off of my chair and hugged me and kept on hugging me until I gave in and hugged him back. Someone had put on some music and Ted and Sam were singing a duet of some Country and Western shit and Ted was hamming it up making Sam keep cracking up laughing which Ted just ignored as he carried on singing in a very loud voice that was nearly as good as Charles. Alright it was bloody good voice and Sam can sing as well, seems all them can, bet you bloody Etta can sing as well, which is more than I can.

"Do you want to join in?"

"Nah, not in a bloody million … you can if you want"

"Nope … I'm nowhere near pissed enough" I could feel his laugh rumbling in his chest.

"You don't need to be pissed to sing … not like me … Go on if you want"

"Nope … I'd rather stay here and dance with my wife, I'll do my best not to tread on her toes and cripple her"

"Wouldn't feel it if you did, can't feel anything … me feet are numb"

"Take those bloody stupid shoes off then"

"Then I'll be small again … thought you liked me being tall"

"Molly?"

"What?"

"Just stop talking shit and take those ridiculous shoes off and dance with me … I don't care how small you are …"

I'd already decided I was going to take my shoes off because now I'd started to think about it, they really were fucking killing me.

"I love it when you're being all bossy"

"You know beautiful, right now I'd be asking you to marry me, well I would if I wasn't already married"

"Would you?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely … no question"

"Tell you what, if you did ask me I'd say that I'd love to, well I would if I wasn't already married myself, but as it is … sorry, I'm already taken and my husband can be a bit of a jealous bugger sometimes"

"That's true if anything is"

"I know"

I'd love to be able to tell you that we were having a bit of a dance but it was more like swaying on the spot because soon as the feeling started coming come back into my toes it was more like I was hopping from one foot to the other on red-hot bloody needles. I was in absolute fucking agony. Charles didn't help one little bit singing in my ear and sort of sniggering at the same time at the way I was hopping about.

"What's so bleeding funny… shut up laughing, there's nothing funny … they fucking hurt"

"I know … and I'm sorry … come on … let's go to bed and I'll kiss them better"

He bent his head to whisper against my ear, obviously wanting to make sure no-one else could hear him "I know I haven't … always been the best … but the one thing I do know is that even though you might not have been my first love, and there is nothing I can do about that, you are definitely my last" He put his hands round my face and tilted it up so I was looking up at him and slowly wiped his thumbs under my eyes "My biggest regret is always going to be that I didn't make things right sooner, because then I'd have you in my life for longer"

"Ditto"

"Ditto? Is that it?"

"Yeah … what's wrong with ditto all of a sudden?"

"Nothing … I was just expecting something a little more … romantic"

"Were you? 'n I was wishing you'd stop laughing, don't know whether or not to believe you when you say stuff …"

"I've never lied to you Molly, never have, and I promise that I never will"

"Okay … that's alright then innit?"

-OG-


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter but as some of you know I have been poorly, NO not that, thank goodness, I have had a recurrence of a problem I have with severe Vertigo which means I can't move my head without being in the spin dryer cycle – anyway going now (hopefully) so getting back to normal – thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter (so long ago you're probably having trouble remembering) and hope that you enjoy reading this. As always special thanks to Flossy, she knows why!**_

_**You Don't Know What You've Got till It's gone**_

I'd forgotten just how bleeding cold upstairs is in that house once the heating's off for the night. Bloody place might be lovely and worth a fortune, well worth more money than I've ever dreamt of having in my entire life, but it seems Ted refuses to spend any of the shed-loads of cash it would need to keep all the hundred spare bedrooms warm at night. Well, not really a hundred but you know what I mean? Bloody place is big enough that they could open a B&B if they wanted. It could be like that Four in a Bed thing off the tele, although somehow can't see Etta being all warm and hostessy with people she thinks are common, can you? I could do that though couldn't I when I live here, because I don't care how people talk. I remember from before Charles laughing and telling me he was surprised his dad didn't dish out Kendall Mint cake to anyone who stayed to help them survive, that his mate Elvis used to say he needed it to make sure he didn't freeze his bollocks off. I did try it once, not frozen bollocks, obviously, but Mint Cake but got to admit that even though I like sweets, well, you know that, it's not for me. It's not really very sweet and it's not that it's horrible or anything but it was a bit like eating something pretty tasteless apart from being like a mouthful of Colgate.

We hadn't actually talked about the house since we got back together, not once, we hadn't talked about his plans for it or anything, to be honest it all seemed a bit previous seeing as how he'd only get his hands on it after they've popped their clogs. Can't see him evicting them somehow. It still felt a bit weird knowing I'm going to live in it one day, like something out of some crappy Sunday afternoon film. Molly Dawes in her stately home. But that doesn't change the truth that getting ready for bed in that bedroom is like getting undressed in a sodding fridge. He's really going to have to spend some of the money he says he hasn't got to fix the fucking heating before I move in. Hey, what do you reckon are the chances of Mr Visa upping the credit limit on my card if I tell him I got prospects? Nah, perhaps not, I don't want to look like a bleeding gold digger, do I?

Tell you what though with it being so cold couldn't help thinking I'd wasted my bleeding time wearing that new stuff I bought for, well never mind about what is was for, but I'm beginning to think it's possibly jinxed. Maybe I should think about binning it? I'd been keeping it for best, it's a hell of a lot better than any of the rest of my stuff and not only would he like me in it but that wearing it would make me feel good. I'd read somewhere that knowing you're wearing your best stuff under your dress will give you confidence so it was a bit of a shame I'd forgotten that thermals would have been a better bet. Wearing beautiful sexy stuff was a complete fucking waste when I flaming well dived under the duvet with me teeth chattering. I was bloody shivering. To be fair he did say how much he liked them, well, that he loved them and loved me in them and that I looked gorgeous, but it was too bloody cold to think about any of the seducing stuff he'd obviously got in mind. But, you know what, it didn't really matter that much, because I might as well have been wearing my most grotty saggy knickers and the bra that's gone a funny colour in the wash because the underwear might be sexy and beautiful and all the bloody rest of it but I didn't feel a bit like I was. Not even the tiniest little bit.

Usually he's only got to smile at me and I'm practically having a heart attack in my knickers, but I just couldn't get this picture out of my head of him with those sexy black boxers of his clinging to his bum like they were as he smiled at her and told her he thought she looked gorgeous in her best bloody bra and knickers. I bet all of hers match. Every single one of them. And that they're all sexy. There were all these thoughts running round and round in my head about him and her and I couldn't shut up the little voice that was whispering that he'd probably done all the same bloody things in this room with her. I just couldn't help it, couldn't stop imagining him saying the same things when they were together as he'd said to me and laughing at the same stuff before they'd touched one another the same way we had. Because you know what, there's no fucking question in my head, no doubt at all that she had to have been there a lot, a lot more than I'd thought, because if she'd only ever stopped once or twice or even a few times and it was all before he was in Kenya, then Ted wouldn't know her, would he? The whole Amber thing was getting to me in a way it hadn't got to me when we were at home and I don't know why I couldn't shut it out of my brain. There was just something about being there in his room that meant I couldn't switch off from thinking about it. About her. And to be honest, thinking about how she'd become part of the family and got invited to stuff in a way that I never would. Not that I wanted to exactly, but it was me was his wife, not her and it didn't seem to mean anything.

I never get all irritable and impatient for him to well, bloody well get a move on and get on with it, do I? Not as a rule, well, except in a good way, but that was exactly what happened. I didn't actually have to break my promise not to fake anything, but I've got to say it was a pretty close-run thing and I know he knew just as well as I did that I wasn't as into it as I usually am. He kept asking if I wanted to stop, if I was okay, if I was too tired or something, but don't know why, I didn't take the easy way out, but I just kept on trying to switch off that fucking annoying little voice niggling away at me. And anyway, I couldn't get the words out to ask. I mean, maybe because I was bothered what he'd say, you know what he's like about telling the fucking truth. And it wasn't like I could just get up and walk away if he told me something that hurt, if it upset me, was it? I couldn't just flounce off and find somewhere else to sleep, not in that house, where the fuck would I even go? The whole thing ended up being a bit bloody half-hearted to say the least and the worst of that was that neither of us said anything about it afterwards. I suppose we were both just busy pretending nothing was wrong.

I woke up hours before it was time to get up, didn't I? Ended up just lying next to him in the dark listening to him making all these soft little snoring noises, something he only ever does when he's had a few. But it was just loud enough to bloody get on my nerves and when jabbed him with my elbow and told him to shut up he'd stop for a bit and then start again so that I ended up waiting for it. It'd never bothered me before, but I couldn't stop tossing and turning and most of all wishing we were at home. I tried to do that counting sheep thing people talk about, but how do you do it? I mean I had enough trouble remembering what a bloody sheep looks like, except for it being white and woolly, and anyway I was pretty sure that the woolly fuckers would most likely just tell me to stop being a prannet and wake him up and talk to him_._

-OG-

Don't know what exactly he said to her about inviting Amber, I missed that bit, but soon as I appeared it all went dead quiet so it was just the three of us standing there not saying a word, and not looking at each other, no eye contact at all. Fucking awkward or what? Couldn't think of what to say. My brain seemed to have been wiped clean, have you ever suddenly thought that maybe you shouldn't have done something? That you might actually have made a mega fucking mistake but that you haven't got a scoobie of how-to re-wind. I mean you can't just go back can you? Normally I'd have gone and stood next to Charles for a bit of you know, a smile or something, anything, but I don't think he was actually any more pleased to see me than she was. He just looked into the space over my head and started to rock backwards and forwards on his heels, tucking his hands under his armpits in a move that was straight out of his "I'm the boss" handbook. And he wasn't the only one who wasn't exactly thrilled to bits to see me, was he? It was just I didn't expect her to be. But Charles being pissed at me was a whole different ball bag, and I hadn't really thought that was going to happen.

And there was no bleeding sign of Ted anywhere which was a total bummer because I'd been counting on him to be Team Molly. Couldn't ask where he was hiding himself though could I, not with the bleeding atmosphere in there. Maybe I should have stuck to what we'd said, but it had been more what he'd said, not me, or even we, but it obviously hadn't been the best idea I've ever had. The trouble was it'd felt more like he was dishing out an order and you know how good I am at following them, he'd told me it would best to let him handle it. But I'd really thought that was just he didn't think he could trust me to keep my gob shut. But he was wrong, wasn't he? I wasn't going to wade in and say stuff. Well, not unless I had to, it just didn't feel right to me being stuck in another room waiting out and not being able to hear what was being said about me, because if anyone's got anything at all to say, then they could bloody well say it to my face. But that didn't mean I wanted to upset him and I could see how hard he was trying to force his lips to smile. Shit. I didn't care one little bit if Etta was upset at me being there, and it was obvious she couldn't give a rat's bum if I was upset either. All those little chats I'd had with myself about being nice and seeing things from her point of view and all the rest of it actually meant fuck all standing in her kitchen while she tried to pretend, I didn't exist. She was looking at melike she wasn't sure which rock I'd been hiding under before she turned back to carry on giving him hell about whatever they'd been arguing about before I got there.

Actually, I was beginning to hope they weren't still going to talk about me, for some reason I seem to be thinking better of wanting to hear it. Any of it at all.

"Tell me Charles, what about Sam? Have you even thought about him? Where exactly does he fit in with all this or have you forgotten that he's your son and should be your number one priority? … I can't believe you're serious … you're really not going to make time to see him at Christmas, not when I think of all the times I've listened to you complain about being away on tour and that you weren't going to be able to see him"

I don't think Etta was actually reading him right, I mean, watching them was like watching some car crash interview, she didn't seem to see the steam practically coming out of his ears. His face had closed up with no expression like when he said he didn't do emotional involvement. He was trying to look like he didn't care what she was saying.

"Thank you, Mum …" He didn't even sound like he was being sarky, but I knew he bloody well was "You're right, of course you are … Sam is indeed my son … and thank you for reminding me where my priorities lie"

Even though he still sounded polite, I could tell, even if she couldn't, that he was absolutely fucking furious at what she'd said. I knew he was probably counting to ten in his head as he tried to hold onto his temper.

"Sam and Rebecca will be going to her parents for Christmas this year … _ And _just in case_ you've_ forgotten, Bill and Wendy are his grandparents as much as you and dad … you are not the only ones who want to see him" He took a very deep breath "Molly and I will be home in time for New Year and Sam will spend it with us"

Lovely. Home from where? I mean it's good we're apparently going to see Sam, well that's what he said and obviously Charles will like that and it'll be a chance for me to get to know him now he's older, which I probably should do, but, well if it's true, and is not just something he's saying to shut her up. It's definitely the first I'd heard of it. But Charles wouldn't lie to his mum, would he? If he's really making all these plans about Christmas then he hasn't told me, actually, it's the first I've heard of any of it, I just hope he hasn't forgotten my job is not that different to being in the army. I have to ask to get time off. Got no idea what usually happens in the holidays, hadn't even thought about it, but I'm not necessarily getting any time off at all, might have to go somewhere, or be in the office answering the bleeding phones or something. Someone's got to. It doesn't seem very likely that people needing rescuing will be told they got to wait out till after Christmas because of us being short staffed because of Christmas, does it? Actually, I think we might be dead busy. Lots of people go skiing or go and sit on a beach somewhere hot or something and some of them are bound to get themselves in trouble, aren't they?

But you know something, that's the first time I've ever heard him get even a little bit snotty with her, seems she might possibly have overstepped when she said about him forgetting Sam was his son. Oh dear, what a shame. I'd say my heart bleeds for her, but I'd be lying.

"Will we see you at all, will you be spending any of the holiday at all here … with us?"

"Nope … sorry Mum, but I really don't think that's a good idea, do you?"

"I can't believe you're telling me you won't be on tour but we won't be seeing you … not at all … I mean, not you or our grandson, or …. "She flicked her eyes at me before looking back at him, seemed she was having a bit of trouble remembering my bloody name.

"Molly… my wife's name is Molly, Mum, as you know only too well" He was doing his "don't bloody mess with me, I'm the fucking boss" bit, the act that used to have 2 section shitting themselves "Indeed, that is precisely what I'm saying"

Shit, this was beyond fucking awkward. Have you ever really, really wished you'd stuck to the plan and let someone else get on with it? I'm not saying I hadn't still got this urge to punch her lights out for her, she couldn't have made it any more bleeding obvious how much she hates me, and I know how dumb it is, but I felt just like I used to feel when I'd really wanted to protect the lads. I didn't want him to be hurting. Told you it was ridiculous, didn't I? We're talking about Charles, my great big tough 6 foot something of solid muscle, the bloke with no soft side to him at all, except for with me, my husband who doesn't do emotion because he believes that way he won't get hurt, and all I wanted to do was stand in front of him and scream "leave him alone"

But you know, there was this tiny little bit of me that felt just a little bit sorry for her as well. How stupid am I? But she'd sounded so hurt, and there's no question she loves him, I know she loves both of them to bits, him and Sam, but it's just like Ted said, she hates not winning. It didn't matter what was going to happen she wasn't going to back down, silly cow was going cut off her nose to spite her bloody face as me Nan would say, because even I know what a big deal Christmas is for her. I remember Charles telling me when we were in Afghan, about how she loves to decorate to make the house magic, he'd told me I'd love it, but then I never got the chance to find out, did I? First year I was on tour and by the second we'd gone to shit.

But Christmas is a big deal for my mum as well, alright without all the fancy pricey poncey shit, but that isn't what Christmas is about, is it? Well not in my house it isn't and telling Mum we're off somewhere and won't see her means she'll likely kick off as well. It was one of the things she hated most about when I was in the army. Alright, maybe she won't throw a hissy, but she'll be hurt, and will pull one of her faces and then tell me it's okay and I'm not to worry because all she wants is for me to be happy. Which will make me feel even more thoroughly bloody shit. Think I might put off telling her anything until I'm sure he isn't just winding his mother up.

-OG-

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

"What? What you on about?"

"Come on Molly, don't …." I didn't have to look at him to know he was pulling a face, probably frowning, which wasn't good "I thought we'd agreed … I thought you were going to wait out and let me get on with sorting it out"

"I did"

His eyebrows shot up again as he flicked a little sideways look at me before turning his gaze back on the road, he obviously didn't believe me, but then I was lying, wasn't I? And I'd sounded like a sulky school kid so I didn't blame him for pretending to be fascinated by the traffic. But he wasn't, we both knew he was actually doing the silent thing to force me to say something else, he's always been bloody good at that, hasn't he?

"I did … you bloody know I did, I waited out … well … I didn't say anything, did I?" Okay, I know, you don't have to tell me "I never meant to upset you, I just … well, I didn't … Umm … Are we really going away somewhere for Christmas? Where? Somewhere nice?"

"Nope, somewhere shit …" He gave this little snort of laughter as if he couldn't quite help himself and then shook his head "We'll talk about that later… after you stop trying to change the subject"

He was either totally fascinated by the number plate on the lorry in front of us or was really, really determined to keep on being pissed at me. It seemed he wasn't even going to look at me, lovely, perfect end to a perfect bloody weekend.

"You know Molly, we said no more secrets, remember that? I thought we'd agreed … so now I'd appreciate it if you'd do something for me and stop trying to pretend there's nothing wrong, just tell me" He took this great big gulpy breath and then let it out in a big whoosh, but I didn't know what to say. I wasn't even sure what exactly he was talking about and it's dead hard when someone's not looking at you to know, there's nothing to help you say the right thing. But I couldn't ask him to look at me could I, not unless I wanted us to end up in the back of that fucking lorry.

"What do you mean?" Yeah, alright it's calling buying time while you have a think about the right words, innit?

"Okay … have it your way, let's start with what the fuck all that was about last night?" He flicked a little glance in my direction, and stayed looking at me just long enough for me to see the frown on his face "And whatever you do, do not say _nothing_"

Oh fuck, not that I should be surprised the mood he was in or the way our day was going so far, but I really didn't want to talk about it, not without being bloody sure what I wanted to say. I'd known it was bound to come up sooner or later because I wasn't going to get lucky enough for it all to just go away, but just not in the car going home. I was tired and grotty and hadn't even had a proper wash, had only splashed my face and armpits and as you know I'm never at my best when I'm minging. And not while we were having a bit of a domestic, because there was more than a fighting chance that if we started on about all that, I'd end up bawling. And I didn't want to. I just wanted to get home and have a bath and wash my hair, and then catch up on some sleep before getting something nice to eat and having a few drinks, and then if we had to, we could perhaps have a chat about it. If we hadn't forgotten all about it by then. With a bit of luck. But not now when he was so obviously having a major sulk.

"Nothing … sorry, yeah I know, I heard you but please don't huff… it was all of it, wasn't it? … it was … pretty crap, the whole bloody thing … the party and that, and then being cold … I'm not talking about the sex, really I'm not, but there was … nothing wrong"

I know, I shouldn't have said that, should have just told him what had upset me, but there was nothing he could do to make it go away, he couldn't wipe her out of his history. And I didn't want to spend the whole fucking journey home talking about him and Ginger Fucking Barbie, did I? And I was beginning to feel a little bit better about her now we were out of that bloody house and away from Etta looking down her nose at me. A bit. I just wanted it all to go away.

"What did you say to her?"

"Who? My mother? What do you think I said? Well I certainly didn't give her any medals for the way she tried to make you feel welcome, did I?" He huffed to show he was still feeling a bit shitty, hopefully with the whole thing, with her and not with me "I told her she has to pack it in … that it's got to stop … not that it will make a scrap of fucking difference … I've said all the same things before and it hasn't sunk in … but what does worry me is that you didn't trust me to sort her out … do you want to tell me why that was?"

"Nah … that wasn't it … you're wrong … course it wasn't I don't trust you … it's not that" I do, don't I? Or I'm getting there "Why did you tell her we was going away for Christmas … just asking so I know?"

"What do you mean just so that you know, what are you talking about? Obviously because I thought you might enjoy a break somewhere … but whatever we're definitely not spending Christmas in Bath"

"Are you serious? Not about Bath, I know that, but that you want to go away? Where was you thinking?"

"Of course I'm serious … and it's up to you where, but you did say you'd like to go back to Abu Dhabi and I thought you'd enjoy spending a few days there over Christmas, well, that we both would … we could go to the hotel with the huge bed and room service"

"You mean it?"

"Yup"

"I'd bloody love to … well, long as I can get off work ... I'll have to ask … you know something, sometimes you're not that bad, are you?"

"What do you mean _sometimes?_ And what does _not that bad mean?"_

"Stop fishing … it means sometimes you're almost the bleeding nuts, as husbands go of course"

He looked over at me and there was this big grin on his face, something that had been missing ever since we got out of bed as he risked running into the back of the lorry that was still in front of us. He turned back to watch where he was going, and began biting his lip as he tried not to smirk. It seems we might possibly be friends again.

"Did I just hear you pay me a compliment, Dawsey?"

"Nah … don't do compliments, you know that" His eyebrows shot up as he huffed "Alright maybe, might of … yeah, alright …I did… 'n you just called me Dawsey"

And then suddenly it was funny, don't exactly know what we were laughing at, maybe we were just laughing, you know, at nothing in particular but I was laughing hard enough to make me worry I was about to pee myself. Everything just felt like it was back to normal.

"'ang on …. they don't do Christmas in Abu Dhabi … they don't have lights and trees or Santa or anything?" I had this vague memory of chatting to one of the chambermaids and although I couldn't tell you exactly what she actually said, I just remember thinking it all sounded a bit shit. But that was when I was there on my own, got a feeling it'll be a whole different ball-bag being there with Charles.

"Molly …?

"What?"

He was pulling a face like he couldn't believe what I'd just said, mind you I couldn't either not when I remembered it's the same as in Afghan and a whole lot of the other places he's been, innit?

"No booze neither"

"Anyone would think you didn't want to go … I mean if you'd rather go somewhere else you only have to say, but no booze just means we'll be sober and I don't think that will matter, I'm sure we can find some way of enjoying ourselves"

"Course I wanna go … just wondered whether it would feel more Christmassy somewhere cold with snow"

"If that's what you want, your choice, we can go anywhere you like … but now stop that …"

He picked up my hand where my fingers seemed to have somehow found their way onto the top of his thigh, don't know how that happened exactly, it's just they do seem to have a mind of their own sometimes. But I could tell he was enjoying it until he picked my hand up and held it to his mouth and then kissed my knuckles slowly one by one before he grinned and gave it back to me. Like it was a parcel. Spoilsport.

"And you can stop looking at me like that as well because it's bloody distracting when I'm trying to get us home in one piece"

"Sorry"

"No, you're not … and don't be sorry, just hold onto those thoughts until we get home"

"What thoughts? Dunno what you're on about"

He didn't answer, didn't say anything, just shook his head and grinned.

-OG-


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: I was beginning to think this chapter was as jinxed as Molly's new knickers, have been having IT nightmares (big thank you to Debra for helping me sort it), anyway hopefully it will be plain sailing for here on in (fingers crossed and touch wood etc- although probably shouldn't tempt fate) Not being able to post means I've been beavering away at the next one so it won't be long. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed Chapter 18 for me, your reviews are what keep me going, together with copious amounts of caffeine and regular replays of the S1 DVD. And as always thanks to Flossy, she knows why.**_

_**Stick with me baby**_

_**We'll find a way**_

"What you doing?" As if I didn't know "Put me down, muppet"

He'd swung me up off my feet and was kissing a little trail down the back of my neck but he hadn't even shut the bloody door behind us.

"Nice ….. and what do you think I'm doing?"

"Well shut the bloody door first, the neighbours will be out there in a minute"

"And?" He shrugged "It's okay, I don't fancy any of them"

"Very funny … they'll be giving you marks out of ten"

"Obviously ten out of ten … better?" He kicked the door shut without looking at it and without stopping kissing the bit on my neck that he knows always gets me going. Sometimes I think he knows me a bit too well.

"Yeah … 'ang on, hang on a tic" He didn't "Just wait a minute, will you? I'm all sweaty … and disgusting, haven't even had a proper wash, I'm minging, me"

All that in the car, you know, stroking his leg and the rest had been a bit of me doing what I knew would distract him, because I didn't want to talk about the things I didn't want to talk about. Alright I admit, as well as enjoying myself. But that didn't mean I didn't know how bad I bloody stink, not that it seemed to be bothering him much.

"Nope … you're perfect"

"What … apart from the way I stink?"

"Well, now you come to mention it, I suppose there is that"

"Shut up … you didn't need to agree with me, but I really do need a bath"

"Lovely, good idea …we can share"

"It's not big enough, you know that"

"That's not what you usually say" He put his head back and roared.

"I lie a lot … and I was talking about the bloody bath, not … nothing else"

"Bloody glad to hear that" He was still laughing and then suddenly stopped and went all serious on me "Moll?"

"What?" I didn't want us to get all serious, I wanted to carry on laughing, the last couple of days had been a bit too full on for my liking "You gonna tell me that I do stink after all, aren't you?"

He ignored that and just shook his head "You do know, don't you, how sorry I am? I can't remember if I told you, but … what she did was fucking ridiculous, even for my mother it was stupid beyond belief and … well, just in case I didn't tell you before, I'm telling you now … I'm sorry"

"Yeah, I know … and you did, you said sorry, and it wasn't your fault, was it? Don't worry …"

To be honest, I couldn't swear if he'd actually said it or not, but I knew that if he could he'd turn the fucking clock back and make it so it never happened, all that shit with his mum inviting her I mean. I know that if he'd known we'd have given the party a miss, but what I'm not sure about and what I wish I knew for sure is whether he wishes Amber hadn't happened. Well, no, that's not exactly true, I'm sure he does, or at least that he wishes I didn't know about her, but I'm pretty bloody sure he doesn't wish that half as much as I do. I know I should be able to put it in that cupboard under the stairs with all the other shit I want to forget, but for three years had done my best to bury any thoughts of him being with someone else, I'd told myself he'd be going without. I know, bit unlikely to say the least, okay totally fucking stupid, he was never going to be some sort of monk, was he? And it wasn't like I hadn't thought about doing the exact same thing myself. I don't think I was _that _bothered about him having the odd one-nighter, well, I wasn't exactly delirious, but I knew he didn't love them, but now I'd begun to think about him and Barbie, I hated that I couldn't put it out of my head. When we'd got back together, I was just bleeding happy that she was toast which meant she could take her nice habit of looking down her nose at me and shove it, but that was then and it's all changed.

"S'alright … you can't help it if your mother's a cow … s'not your fault"

His little chuckle sounded like it had escaped without him meaning to laugh, like it was against his better judgement or something, but he didn't say to stop or that I was being horrible or _inappropriate or _anything. And I do know it's one of them things that comes under the heading of stuff you shouldn't say about his mother. But I'd been lying when I said it was alright, okay it was a bit more alright than it had been at the time and it was getting more alright now we were home, and I do know that what happened wasn't his fault. That it wouldn't be fair for me to keep on blaming him, but it's not my fault either, is it?

-OG-

We were standing in the hallway and he'd turned me round so that we were just holding each other and not saying anything and all I could hear was his steady breathing and my pulse drumming in my ears. He leaned back a little bit and then wiped my hair back behind my ear before smiling down at me. I love it when he smiles at me like that and I love the way his skin smells, it almost makes me want to inhale him, like catnip or something and I can't get close enough or get enough of it. Well, he definitely smells a whole lot better than I do, no-one in their right mind would want to inhale me. I leaned in against him and rested my head against his chest, could hear his heart was hammering away in the same way mine was banging against my ribs, and all I wanted was to make everything right. I didn't want to fight anymore and I'm pretty sure he felt the same way as he laced his fingers through mine and lifted my hand to his lips.

"Come on, bedtime" He began to tug me behind him "I think it's time I showed you exactly how much I love you"

"I already know how much you love me …"

"Do you? Lovely … then hurry up and you can show me exactly how much _you_ love _me_"

"Who said I do?"

"You did …" He stopped walking and looked down at me with that funny serious look on his face again "Sometimes, Moll I look at you and have remind myself that you're really here, that I didn't lose you after all … nothing's changed, you know, you're still the most important person in the world to me … the only thing that matters is making you happy … and doing everything I can to make sure nothing hurts you"

"Soppy bugger … 'n I know all that don't I?" Don't know why I said that, actually I got no idea, it's just when he says stuff like that, it still always makes me go all squirmy inside "You don't need to worry about me, mate, you know I'm tough … got a medal for it, haven't I?"

I thought it would make him laugh, but it didn't, he just kept on looking at me with that same serious look in his eyes "I can look after meself … hard as nails, me …"

"No, you're not … and I wish it was that easy"

"It is, really it is … just …. try"

I can't say anything now about the worries I got about him and bloody Amber, can I? Not when I've just spouted all that bollocks about being tough and that things don't bother me. He's right though, we both know that, it's not always the truth, sometimes I think I'm just good at putting on a show so as not to let anyone see how I feel. But I do know that he can't go back and change history, he can't airbrush her out of the past, mores the bloody pity.

-OG-

We did have that bath together, eventually. Same as we did end up with loads of bubbles overflowing and flooding the bleeding bathroom floor, exactly like I knew we would. I was right, our bath is far too bloody small for the two of us, especially when neither of us is happy with the tap end and one of us is a fucking daddy-long-legs who has to have his knees out the water to make room for me to sit between his legs so I can lean back against him. Didn't matter though, it was never about having a bath exactly, was it? And we ended up going back to bed and spending the rest of the day making each other happy all over again.

Trouble was that meant all the stuff he'd planned to sort out on the last day of his leave got a bit forgotten so he had to get out of bed next day almost in the middle of the night to sort himself out. I just shut my eyes and pretended to still be asleep, didn't I? It was pitch dark and freezing bloody cold and tipping it down, and it was lovely and warm in the bed, but he sounded like he meant it when he said it had been worth it. Think he did anyway.

I still hadn't said anything to him about Amber, well, we'd made up and I didn't want to ruin things by talking about all of that, did I?

-OG-

I've got no idea why I'd thought it would be killing two birds and that and why I thought it would be a good idea, but I had to get out, couldn't spend another evening doing what I'd been doing and I hadn't seen much of Claire, was a bit worried she'd think I was neglecting her. And I had been thinking of doing some sort of exercise thing to try and get a little bit fitter before I started going out running with Charles, hadn't I? I was still bothered about showing myself up in front of him, but on the other hand I had no wish to train for the sodding Olympics. But too late to change my mind and walk away though, not when we've paid a small bleeding fortune to stand in a sodding circle and be yelled at by some nut-job who's missed his calling as an army P.T instructor. Actually, I wouldn't be totally shocked if I found out his day job is torturing squaddies and that he's just bloody moonlighting at this lark. Jumping jacks for fuck sake? Jumping jacks? And according to Saddam Hussain we can't stop till he says, or until we keel over and drop down dead. Okay he didn't actually say the last bit, but bloody hell, if this was the warm up I was going to be a puddle on the floor by the time we're warm enough. Much more of it and I was going to need the de-fib, could only hope they'd got one handy and that some bugger knew how to use the fucking thing.

It's sad isn't it how I used to be such a fit bloody soldier? Used to pride myself on it and now look at me, I mean we've only been at it about a year, alright five sodding minutes, and I'm already sweating buckets. I feel disgusting, there's sweat pouring out of everywhere and I'd forgotten how gross it is to have sweat pooling in my sports bra and to know that every stitch I've got on is going to be wringing wet by the time we're done. And not in a sexy way, either, in a horribly sweaty, smelly, sticking to me way and how come other people look all sexy and sleek in their lycra and I look total shit? I'd bought this yellow top to look the part when I get all fit and start going out running, it's lycra and tight and was bleeding expensive, has got all these strappy bits and I thought I'd give it an airing but when I looked in the mirror all I could see was I looked like a half-peeled banana. Should have sent it back, too late now it's soaked in sweat and anyway I really should have known it's always better to wear a baggy black 't' shirt to hide the sweat. I'd forgotten what it feels like to have my scalp prickling with trickles of sweat and my hair sticking to my face which I bloody know is the colour of an over-ripe tomato. I bet it clashes with my top. And I could have been curled up on the sofa in my pyjamas eating biscuits.

He went back to work a couple of days ago and I'm already pissed off with wondering how much longer he's going to be getting home, when to get the dinner on, clock watching and telling myself not to. And I'm pissed off with lying to him about it, telling him I hadn't noticed what the time is. He's busy. I know that. He's got to get to know his new section and what he's doing and he's got to get things sorted and get used to being Major James not Captain and all the rest of it and I know he's dead tired when he gets home. I bloody know all that. Same as I know he'd have been a bit better organised and ready before he went back if it hadn't been for me distracting him. Still, he was happy enough to be distracted, wasn't he? Didn't hear him complaining.

Before, I'd been happy doing my own thing, well, happyish, had been getting more and more used to being on my own and pleasing myself. Yeah, I'd missed him, not going to deny that, but had quite liked not having to kowtow to anyone. I could please myself what I did, and when, and I could eat what I liked, could have Coco-Pops for dinner if I wanted, it was no-one else's business was it? And I'd told him I didn't want things to change, but they already are. I can see that but it's not like he's said anything, I'm sure it's not what he expects, but I'm slowly starting to do the things I said I would never do again. How bloody stupid is that?

This malarkey is bloody stupid as well. I am far too bloody unfit to be jumping about being shouted at by some Popeye lookalike who's got the biceps to prove he's had his spinach today. Yelling at us over the top of the naff 90s dance music that his side-kick picked in a way that I think is meant to be encouraging. It's not. No matter what Claire said earlier this is NOT a _they're beginners so go gentle on them_ class. Mind you it's a bit worrying that not even she looks like she's suffering and neither do any of the others, most of them have got these stupid bloody happy grins on their faces which makes me think they must of all taken something before we started.

"Come on … you guys … keep going … AWESOME … come on, lots of effort, last little push"

Some other sadist used to call me awesome, didn't he? After he'd made me run round a bloody dusty compound in 40 degree heat and then when I was sweating like a pig he'd threaten me with having to clean the bogs if I slowed down. I'd give anything to be at home cuddling up on the sofa with him right now.

"That's it … now … running on the spot … come on you guys … after 3 …1 and 2 and 3…and . " At least running on the spot will give my poor aching arms a rest "Feel the blood pumping … come on, feel it, doesn't it make you feel alive?"

Nah. It makes me feel like I'm about to drop down and die and if I knew what his name was I'd bloody tell him I've had enough. But you can't say "Oi You" can you to someone who's told you their name?

After a couple of years of running on the spot, okay, admittedly it might have been more like five minutes, and being yelled at to get our knees up, he decided we were warm enough. Which was a bit of an understatement far as I was concerned and believe me if I did get my knees up any bloody higher, I'd have been bashing my fillings out my sodding teeth, we were told we could run round instead of on the spot. Lovely. Every other bugger, even Claire, now had this mad grin on their faces as they ran past him and did high-fives, they're all obviously as bloody deranged as he is.

-OG-

"Piss off sunshine"

Jeez, now we've got to put up with Popeye's side-kick doing his best to smarm his way into talking us into signing up to something, he's waving his bloody blue clipboard around and spouting stuff about cardio. He's bloody looking for victims for the Boxercise class, whatever the fuck that is. Fat chance.

"Ignore my friend, she doesn't mean it"

Claire was smiling at him, all fluttering eyelashes and simpering like she knew him or something, although I'm pretty sure neither of us have ever clapped eyes on him before we'd seen him helping Popeye try and kill us.

"And you're right, this was our first time … and we really enjoyed it … but no, we hadn't really thought about doing Boxercise"

What? Enjoyed it? Speak for yourself. Obviously whatever drugs the other muppets had taken they must have shared them with her. Hark at her, I'll bet she doesn't know what Boxerthingy is any more than I do.

"What do you mean, I don't mean it? I bloody do, and it might have been our first go … but it was definitely the last"

"Molly … shut up, will you? You're being rude and you don't speak for me anyway" She switched off the huffy voice and stuck that stupid grin back on her face as she turned back to speak to Popeye's mate "I'll probably come another time, will maybe try the boxing thing, it sounds great, but I'll need to see how I'm fixed"

Just for a minute there was a gutted look on his face as it slowly dawned on him that neither of us were going to sign up for anything and then he did his best to look as though he wasn't bothered as he wandered off clutching his clipboard. To give him his due he didn't try and talk us round, maybe he could see that it'd be a waste of his breath, think he knew as well as I did that she's not going to think about it, she was only saying that to get rid. Claire had been every bit as knackered and sweaty as me when we were in the showers, she'd been swearing "never again" just as loud as I had, although he probably couldn't hear.

"You know, you could have tried to be a bit nicer to him"

"Why?"

"Because … Listen, you might be all sorted and settled and married to a sexpot and dead boring, but I'm not, I'm still looking, aren't I? And the gym's supposed to be top of the list of wicked places to pull so I don't need you being like that, it's not very helpful"

To be honest I didn't take her huffiness very seriously, but being called boring stung a bit. I hadn't realised I was boring.

"How was your weekend with Mr Sex on Legs anyway? Did you see your mother-in-law?" She sniggered "Happy to see you after all this time, was she?"

"Stop being horrible and don't call him that … 'n stop bloody gloating … if you must know it was pretty shit, but then no surprise there, I told you it was gonna be, didn't I? She bloody hates me…"

"Well you hate her so there you go …" Claire shrugged, but she doesn't get it, everyone loves Claire, don't they? "What? She didn't tell you that, did she?"

"Nah, she didn't have to, she invited his ex to the party … she invited Ginger Fucking Barbie"

"She didn't? _Fuck me_ … so what did you do? Shit Moll, you didn't deck her, did you?"

"Who … his mother? … Nah .. I was bloody tempted, but you'd have been proud of me"

"Well, I didn't mean her necessarily, I was talking about Barbie"

"Nah …. well, she wasn't actually there … so nah I never, but she was invited so she could have been"

"Just had a thought, if we do his boxing thing, you can stick her picture on whatever you hit and pretend it's her … and his mother if you want" Claire seemed to be finding the thought hilarious "What did Mr Wonderful have to say about it?"

"His name is Charles … and he was a bit pissed at her actually, nah, to be fair he was very fucking pissed at her, told her we wasn't going there for Christmas, said we was going somewhere hot instead just the two of us to sit on a beach"

"That's nice"

"Is it? First I'd bloody heard of it … he hadn't said anything like that … so couldn't help thinking he only said it to get up her nose … gotta say if that was it, it bloody well worked … she was fucking furious … To be honest the whole thing, the weekend, the party, _her_, all of it was total shit, I couldn't stop thinking about him and that ginger cow and wondering what he saw in her … and then thinking about them there together in that house"

"Shit … What did he say?"

"Nothing …. well I never exactly said anything to him, did I?"

"Why the fuck not?"

"I dunno … 'n you don't need to tell me I should of, I do know that"

"Yeah … not like you to be a muppet Moll, you okay?" For a minute she sounded like my mate Claire who really cared about how I was feeling "You're not sorry … are you, you know … about … things?"

"Yeah, course I'm alright, and nah I'm not sorry, why would I be?"

Claire was waving her glass about and swearing in the general direction of the bloke standing down the other end of the bar chatting when he was supposed to be serving. She was getting a teeny bit cross with having to jump up and down to get him to notice it was time for a refill. Not for me. I couldn't face a proper drink, not after all that sweating and charging round trying not to trip over someone else's feet. I'd been horribly afraid I'd fall over and if I did, I'd never be able to get up again. And I'd been trying to avoid getting caught and overtaken by whichever lunatic was running so close behind me I could hear them breathing, but now that it was over, I thought it best to stick to sipping a glass of water. I had no intention of drinking anything that would put back all the calories I'd just sweated, and anyway I'd had enough trouble not puking after I'd glugged back half a bottle of water when we'd finally finished. I'd had to unstick my tongue from where it was superglued to the roof of my mouth. Somehow or other in the last few years I've forgotten what all that feels like.

"So, where is he tonight then … keeping the bed warm?"

"Course … Nah, he won't even be home yet … and Claire … just because I'm married it don't mean I don't know about being on the pull … it's not been that long, it's just that bloke … Popeye's mate … I knew loads like him in the army, bloody cocky and full of shit, and I don't mean to be boring and I know you're gonna say it's none of my business, but he's not good enough for you, for fuck sake he's another Poundland Prince Charming like bloody Simon with the bad breath_"_

"You're right, it is none of your business … And you're right about being boring … Forgotten all about Mr Chipolata already, have we?"

"Nah… course not … alright … yeah, maybe … okay, you might have a point"

I'm honestly beginning to wonder about whether Claire still wants us to be the sort of mates we've always been, I bloody hope she isn't about to dump me and that all this is just something and nothing, because I'll really miss her if she stops wanting to be my mate. Not sure I'll miss her being annoyed with me all the time though, that's beginning to get on my tits.

-OG-

"Delhi?"

Shit, not entirely sure where that is, India or Pakistan or somewhere like that, India I think, but my geography is pretty shit. Failed it didn't I? Not going to ask because I think they'd think I should know and I don't want to look like a cretin. I'm not 100% sure I want to go anywhere at all, least of all somewhere that's going to be a very long trip. Last night on the bus going home I'd been struggling to stay awake and had decided I really have got to work properly on getting a bit more fit before I'm fit enough to go out running. Sitting on a plane for sodding hours and then eating my own body weight in hotel food is not going to do anything much to help, is it?

-OG-


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: _**Thank you very much to all those who are still following Molly's journey, this is still very much a monologue, and is about seeing things from her point of view – as ever my thanks to Flossy for asking all the right questions **_

_**Why does the Sun keep on Shining?**_

I went round sticking those yellow sticky note things on everything I could think of, the fridge, the kettle, his coffee thingies, you know, the bathroom door, middle of his pillow, bloody everywhere, I sort of knew he'd think it was funny, that he would get the joke, that it was me on a mission to make bloody sure he was no doubt about where I was. I mean, yeah might have been a bit of over-kill, but I was making the point that I didn't want him to worry like last time. Although that wasn't my fault, I mean how was I supposed to know he'd be bothered, far as I knew, he was with Ginger Barbie, wasn't he? Then even though I knew he'd be dead busy being the boss and doing something important and that, yelling at someone probably, except he tells me he doesn't have to do that these days because people do what he says. I'm not completely sure because he denied it but I think that was just him having a little pop at me. Anyway, I called him, even though I knew a text would be better, and my call would go straight to voice mail, but I wanted to talk to him or at least hear his voice before I went, didn't I? Well, you never know what Lady Luck's got in store.

I'm sure that as flights to India go it was probably better than fine, I mean, it was Business Class which is hardly roughing it, is it? Trouble was it was fucking endless or seemed it. Eight and a half bleeding hours to Mumbai, and all the time knowing that even when I finally got off the damn thing there was going to be a bleeding long wait and then another couple of hours on another plane to Delhi. Hadn't really thought about it at the time, but it was no bloody wonder Admin at the office had been saying how sorry they were they couldn't get me a direct flight.

Maybe if I hadn't been shitting myself about what was waiting for me it wouldn't have been so bad, but I was fucking bricking it, and before you say anything, that wasn't because of not wanting to go to India, it was on my list of places I wanted to see, or not wanting to leave Charles, it was nothing like that. His name is Noel Dexter and he's got a fucking head injury. They're the bread and butter jobs for us, people who've hurt their heads when they're abroad nearly always need someone to give them a helping hand to get home because of not travelling on their own. The airlines won't have it, will they? I'd always known it was going to happen one day, I was bound to be sent to re-pat someone with a head injury, someone who could very likely keel over and die on me without any warning. Someone just like Smurf. And just like with Smurf, I wouldn't be able to do a single thing to help.

This Noel had been on the back of a scooter or might have been a motorbike, don't know, not sure, all I do know is that he's a photographer or had been taking photos or something when the driver hit something and he'd come off. Noel I mean, don't know about the driver, but Noel hadn't got his helmet on properly, that's if he was even wearing one in the first place. He'd ended up landing smack bang on his head in the middle of the road and it really hadn't been good at the start, he'd been more than a bit shit so everyone had been very dubious about whether he'd even live. Then when it seemed he wasn't going to die, they weren't sure whether his brains were scrambled, but Lady Luck had smiled on him and he got away with it, at least that's what they're saying. I just bloody hope they're right and that they've checked everything at least twice before they decided he's good to travel home. I Googled it when I was at Heathrow waiting, just thought it would be helpful to read up on the latest, you know, what to look out for and that, but I'm not that sure I should have done it. To be honest it didn't help much, didn't stop my stomach from churning and turning over with worry and I really can't help thinking it would have been far better for this Noel if someone else had gone to get him.

-OG-

I'm sure Mumbai is well nice, they say it's lovely and I'm sure that's true but all I saw was the inside of another air-conditioned lounge at another bleeding airport, same old, same old. It's nice and posh and everything but nothing to get excited over. Maybe that was because I was dead tired. Mystery to me how you can get so bloody tired from sitting still for hours, but my eyes were all gritty and sore and kept wanting to close so I was struggling to keep them open. Then every time I just rested them for a few seconds, I felt like I was still on that sodding plane and some sadistic sod was jerking it up and down on a bit of string. He was enjoying himself with making me suffer. It was a really shit feeling. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so utterly bleeding horrible, especially knowing there were still bloody hours to go before I could find my hotel bed and die.

-OG-

"Hey you … where are you, still in Mumbai?" I'd texted him soon as we landed, just to say I was there, you know, but I hadn't asked him to ring me back. Knew he would though, well, alright, I'll admit I'd have been bleeding pissed if he hadn't "You okay?"

"Yeah ... course, why wouldn't I be? Bit of a long wait for the next bit though, I got a while here yet. you okay … had a good day?"

"Indeed … well, as okay as it can be without you … it's a bit cold and lonely … and very quiet"

"Are you saying I make a lot of noise? … Cheeky sod … I'm quiet as a little mouse, me"

"My own very noisy little mouse … as well as a very beautiful one … and I miss her"

I couldn't tell you why exactly, but soon as I heard him say all that I felt better, even though he was taking the piss a bit. I mean I only saw him at breakfast so it hadn't been long and we hadn't really got much to talk about but for some reason I'd been feeling horribly alone and lonely I suppose. What me Nan always called feeling _fed up and far from home. S_itting there on my own I'd felt like a real Billy No-Mates, which is a bit ridiculous, I'm a professional doing a job, but the minute I heard him say he missed me I felt a whole lot better. I know, bloody daft or what?

"Flatterer … 'ere before I forget, can you take me stuff out the wash for me, I forgot and it'll smell horrible if it sits in there for days till I get back …. It'll smell like wet dog"

"Course … hey … I didn't know we had a dog …"

"Smartarse … you know what I mean"

"Indeed … and we really can't have you smelling like an Afghan shitter, can we?"

"What you talking about? I never said that"

"You used to say it all the time back in the FOB … about the smell?"

"Did I? well, must have been me on me best behaviour, being polite in front of the boss or something … they bloody reeked … and I should know, you used to make me clean them … bully"

"I have to admit I never noticed you being polite in front of the boss …"

"Didn't you? Very unobservant of you… thought you always said you noticed everything"

"And I was never a bully, either" He completely ignored what I'd said "Hey, would it help if I said I was sorry?"

"Nah"

"Well I am … what are you going to do while you wait for the flight?"

"Dunno … would be nice if there was other people around to talk to maybe … but there's no-one, they're all bloody sensible as well as bloody rich, all at home in bed and asleep, or tucked up in a nice comfortable hotel or something … they're not sitting here trying to find something to do to pass the time"

"Thanks for that"

"Nah … sorry, that came out wrong, didn't mean it the way it sounded"

"Glad to hear it … why _rich _anyway?"

"Have you seen how much a Business Class ticket costs? If we're going Business to Abu Dhabi, you're gonna have to start saving … or seeing about selling a kidney or something … it's not exactly Primark"

"Who said anything about Business Class?"

"You saying you expect me to slum it? Nah, sorry, getting used to this game, aren't I?"

"Christ … well, I'll be happy to sell a kidney if I have to, I'm sure you're worth every penny…"

"Listen, you might be there and I'm not, but my bullshit radar is still alive and well …. It's working fine"

"Listen to me for a minute Moll" I could hear the laugh in his voice "Do something for me please, make sure you ring me as soon as you get there, okay?"

"Get where … Abu Dhabi?"

"Very funny … you know exactly what I'm talking about, just promise me you'll ring as soon as you land in Delhi, let me know you've got there safe and sound"

"It'll be middle of the bloody night, you'll be snoring in your pit" I was trying dead hard to work out the time differences, but my brain wasn't working.

"I won't be able to sleep until I know you're safely there … okay? So, humour me, and just do it … promise … do it for me"

"Yeah alright … Okay … I promise" I got to say I'm not sure what the fuck he thinks is going to happen to me between here and Delhi, same as I'm not sure what he'd have done if I'd of told him the truth when he asked if I was okay. Not going to ask what he thinks might happen, I got enough to worry me already, and it's not like there's anything he can do, is there?

-OG-

I kept dropping off for a second or two and then jumping awake as soon as my chin fell forward, so I was beyond glad when they said the waiting out was over and it was time to board for Delhi. Every time I'd jerked awake, I hadn't been able to think where the bloody hell I was, so it was beginning to feel like I hadn't slept for a month. The cabin crew were dead busy so they had no time to chat with me like the ones on the flight from London, and Business was full of, well, business people, mostly men, all men actually, apart from me, and most of them seemed to be wanting coffee and breakfast, but I couldn't face another bloody mouthful. Even the smell of the coffee was putting me off. I don't know what it is with airlines that they throw food at you the whole time, well, not throw exactly, but you know what I mean. But being on my own with no-one to talk to meant there was far too much bloody time for me to just sit and look out the window and watch the sun coming up and _think, _which I'm notsure was very helpful. I kept thinking about when we were first together and how I'd thought it was going to last forever, and then when he'd been gone and I'd been properly on my own, not just for a few hours on a plane or sitting in an airport, I'd really thought everything would be okay if he'd only come back. And I suppose I'd kept on thinking like that, I'd been sort of on hold just waiting for everything to be back to how it was supposed to be. Talk about bloody kidding myself. I should have admitted that it was never going to be that easy, I love him to bits but we needed to be honest with each other. There is no magic bubble that's going to last for the rest of my bloody life. I'd believed that all I had to do was be what everyone wanted me to be, probably had a lot to do with my dad and things from the past, but it wasn't true was it? I had to be me. I'd stopped all that hiding behind an act with the family, and it was time I stopped it with Charles. Him and me won't work otherwise, will we? All that stuff my dad used to say about me is wrong, I know all that, he made me think I'll always be something people have got to put up with, and I know it's not like that, there's no-one has to put up with me. It's beyond fucking stupid that underneath I still feel like I'm that girl, and have to hide my feelings and keep on smiling even when I'm afraid to ask something because of the risk the answer will be something I don't want to hear.

Charles, Claire, Nan, my mum and I suppose my dad and his mum as well, sort of, and there's all the people I care about that I've lost touch with, Jacks and the lads, everyone, I need to bloody grow up and do something before it's too late. If I don't, if I carry on with pretending everything is fine when it's not, then I'm going to spend the rest of my life watching it all, everyone I care about, disappearing down the shitter.

-OG-

Places have surprised me before, you know, they've turned out different to how I'd pictured them. I remember thinking Afghan was well nice and that I wouldn't mind living there, well as long as they stopped having a bloody war 'n that and got a few shops. And maybe it's because of being so tired, but soon as I got through the gate all I could think was bloody hell, look at this place. It was unbelievably bloody huge, probably the biggest empty and most echoing space I've ever seen in my life and I don't know why, but it wasn't what I'd been expecting. And there were all these men clustered in front of the barriers waving cards and yelling, shouting out names at the tops of their voices and pushing one another out the way to get the best spot. And apart from them, there wasn't a bleeding soul to be seen in the place.

Not being able to see my name anywhere on any of the boards gave me one of those moments, I had that little surge of panic in my guts I get sometimes when I'm not sure what's best to do next. And then gave myself a bloody good kick up the arse. Not literally of course, I'm not a contortionist but sometimes I need to remind myself that it's all good and going to be fine, that I'm a big girl now. I got there in one bit, didn't I? and I'm perfectly capable of finding a bleeding taxi at an airport for fuck sake, there was bound to be a whole load queued up outside. But then I'm not going to lie and pretend I wasn't happy when this nice young driver called Jayesh or something like that saw my medical assist stuff and claimed me like I was a bit of lost property. Wasn't that far from the truth actually. I could easy have passed for something that had got left out in the rain. I'd done what I could to my face and hair and had brushed my teeth on the plane, which had made me feel a bit better, but none of it could stop me feeling like chewed string. I felt un-fucking-believably shit, it was going to need at least a hot cuppa and eight hours kip and maybe a chat with my lovely husband for me to begin to feel like me.

Jayesh didn't say anything, just kept on nodding and smiling and doing his best to insist I had to let him dump the med kit in the trolley with the rest of my stuff while I was hanging onto it as if my life depended on keeping hold of the sodding thing. I couldn't work out how good his English was, all I knew was it was bloody hard work trying to get him to understand I couldn't let him take it and look after it for me so we ended up almost having this tug of war. I'm pretty bloody sure he thought I was being an ungrateful stroppy mare, but I'd had it drummed into me right from the get go that no-one is allowed to get their mitts on it. Probably because of the drugs, but I wasn't allowed to let it out of my sight, they even let me keep it with me on the plane.

The noise level and the rugby scrum outside the doors was fucking unbelievable, all these other drivers, at least I think they were drivers, were yelling and waving their arms at me and they were all shouting at once, yelling about whether or not I wanted their bloody taxi, and tell you what, I was sort of glad I had Jayesh. Bloody hell. I know they got a living to make and I'm sure they're just trying their best to earn enough to feed their kids and that, but fuck me, it was actually a bit scarily full on. Which is bloody saying something from a girl from the east End who used to go to Upton Park on a Saturday afternoon.

The warm sunshine and being off of that plane felt lovely, but I was actually quite glad to get in the hotel car when Jayesh stood and held the back door open for me. He honestly didn't seem to get it that I really wanted to go in the front, but seems it's against something or other, his union maybe, for him to let me sit next to him. But we'd only just got going and I was offering up little prayers of thanks to Lady Luck, or whoever was watching out for me. Thank fuck he hadn't let me get in the front. All the bloody drivers are sodding maniacs and seems there are no rules at all, except every man for himself. What does surprise me is that after Noel fell off of whatever he was on, which is no surprise now by the way, no other bugger ran over him when he was in the middle of the road. For fuck sake, no-one seemed to be looking where they're going, although Jayesh did say they all make sure they look out for the cows in the road. Bloody Nora.

There are these two really tall blokes standing guard outside the front doors of the hotel and they're all dressed up in these beautiful robes, you know, they're Sikhs or something with turbans and that, although I'm not sure they're actually guarding anything exactly. I got a feeling it might be more for show for the tourists, but still they're dead impressive. Think I'm going to ask if I can get a selfie with the pair of them before I go home. The inside of the hotel is a bit lovely as well, my room is pretty nice and the bed is big and welcoming looking, although not as big as the one in Abu Dhabi. The bath is bloody huge, shame I got no company.

"'ello … it's me"

"And about bloody time, where the fuck are you?"

"Delhi … the hotel … I just got here"

"Right … so what happened to _as soon as I get there, I promise_?"

"I have just got here … 'ere, you mad at me?"

"No of course not …" I heard him take a deep breath, and knew he was lying, he was, he was fucking furious, I can tell these things "I was concerned about where you were, that's all"

I heard him give a bit of a gulp as he swallowed hard, and knew he'd been dead worried. Shit, hadn't meant that to happen, had I? I'd just thought I'd wait till I got to the hotel to ring him instead of in the back of the hotel car with all the brakes squealing and the horns blaring and me shrieking and scaring him shitless every time it looked like we were just about to hit something.

"Sorry … had my eyes shut in the car from the airport, didn't I? They're all bleeding nuts, I don't think they have driving rules or tests or anything stupid like that here and they definitely got no highway code, unless you count having to watch out for the cows … fucking scary"

"Lovely …thanks for that, Moll … that makes it so much less worrying .."

"Sorry .. you should see this place, not the hotel, that's well nice, but the roads round the airport, there are all these people seem to be living on the street, properly living, you know, cooking their breakfast on the pavements with loads of kids running about all over, never mind about the fires and being by the busy road, it was so dead bloody dangerous I wanted to stop the car and tell them to be careful, and then just up the road a bit, there was all these places that obviously cost a bleeding bomb, great big gates and that .."

"That's the same just about wherever you go, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I s'pose … bit shit though, innit?"

"Indeed … listen Moll, don't even think of bringing any of the kids home in your luggage, will you? I know what you're like"

"What not even a couple? You sayin' someone would notice?"

"Yup … and I would really like my beautiful wife home here with me, I don't want to have to bail her out of jail or explain to someone somewhere that it's just she has a very soft heart, that she's not a people trafficker"

"Haha, so bleeding funny …"

"I know … but I mean it … when are you coming back?"

"Dunno yet … couple of days, probably, gotta see what's what later when I go to the clinic … really gotta have a kip first ... I'm bleeding knackered ... be asleep before the springs hit the floor"

I heard that soft little chuckle he always does when I say that, it's part of our history and his chuckle was telling me I was forgiven for not doing exactly what I'd promised. I hadn't told him anything about this Noel, not a word about him having a head injury and he hadn't asked, I didn't want to say anything and for him to worry about me remembering all the shit with Smurf. He'd be worried I'd be upset and anyway it was bad enough me being worried stiff.

"Now go and get some sleep and ring me when you know … okay? And Moll … please do something for me, could you please make sure you do it this time?"

"Yeah .. I will"

"I love you … now … promise me you'll keep yourself safe for me, won't you? And remember you have to leave those kids where they are"

"If I must … 'n you be safe 'n all, I'll phone soon as I know … love you" I knew he was grinning "Go on, hang up."

"Nope … You first .."

"Nah … you … alright I'm going to hang up, I'm going to bed"

"Night … sleep well"

"You had to have the last word, didn't you?"

"Nope … that's you"

"Shut up"

It was probably the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in, and the pillows were lovely as well, but even though I almost died soon as my head hit the pillow it was only a couple of hours later and I was bloody wide awake again. I really wish I could say I woke up raring to go, but I didn't, my stomach was churning worse than ever, it was actually bad enough now to be making me feel a bit sick.

-OG-

"Hello … you Noel?"

Fuck, I ran out of words for a minute, didn't I? He's actually one of the best looking blokes I've ever seen, and that's in spite of the big bandage round his head, or maybe it's because of it. His skin is really pale and he's got these amazing blue eyes ringed with dark lashes and he's just, well, really. really good looking. It's a bloody good job he didn't land on his face in that road, would have been a crying shame to have spoiled it.

"Hi Noel ... I'm Molly and I've come to take you home"

"Something tells me that doesn't mean what I usually hope it means when a beautiful girl like you says she's taking me home with her"

Oh god, he's smirking. Not only good looking but bloody knows it 'n all, thinks he's god's gift. _Hello Molly, nice to meet you_ would have done nicely and he sounds like a septic tank, although it doesn't say so anywhere on his notes. Not that it makes a scrap of bleeding difference, does it? You know, I can't help getting the distinct feeling it's going to be a very long couple of days.


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N: Thank you for the wonderful reviews and comments for Chapter 20 and I apologise in advance for any glaring errors I might have made about Delhi, please put them down to taking a bit of artistic license. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks to Flossy for her unfailing and unstinting support, she must get sick of my insecurities. **_

_**Don't fall in Love with a Dreamer**_

I'd have given anything to just roll over and close my eyes, go back to sleep even if it was just for a few minutes because every bit of me knew it was 3 o'clock in the fucking morning, middle of the bloody night for god's sake. Only trouble was I knew if I did that then I'd still be asleep when it was past time to be at the clinic, I am so fucking tired. I am going to sleep for about a week when I get home and my head stops telling me I got to get out of bed. It's one of the bloody things that no-one ever warns you about, the way the time differences fuck with your body clock. Well they definitely do with mine even when it's like here and only four hours difference give or take.

Jayesh obviously thought I was some sort of bleeding nut-bar, he really did seem to think I'd lost the bleeding plot wanting to go for a little walk, but I wanted to have a bit of an explore on my own, but no chance, he practically bloody kidnapped me. Insisted on bundling me in the car saying it was his pleasure to take me anywhere I wanted, that all I had to do was just say and for a bit there it really looked odds on that he was about to burst into bloody tears. Course I wasn't allowed to sit in the front with him, no surprises there then, but he had horror written all over his boat race as he kept screwing his head round to tell me that keeping me safe was his job. I think what he meant to say was it was his fucking mission in life. He was really starting to get up my bloody nose, I don't need anyone telling me what I can do, do I? Especially not some kid who doesn't even look old enough to shave, I think he's about twelve. Alright, I suppose he's got to be a bit older than that to drive, although I wouldn't swear to it, don't think he's passed a test or anything stupid like that, and I'd be one hell of a lot happier if he could just keep his sodding eyes on the road instead of looking round at me. He really needs to watch where the fuck he's going or he's going to hit one of the cows that are meandering about in the middle of the road and I'd really prefer he didn't, not while I'm in the car. I might be a medic but I got no wish to give first aid to a fucking cow.

Okay, I can see he means well, that's obvious, but he's not my dad, I've already got a useless one of them at home and I'm perfectly capable of having a little wander round on my own without getting into trouble, just ask Charles, or maybe don't, but I'm well used to crowded and noisy and dusty and a bit grubby, aren't I? Makes it feel like home from home, although I don't think east Ham is quite as smelly as it is here, well, okay maybe it's not that different. I can see the air quality here is a bit crap like it is there, but I'm used to exhaust fumes and the smell of buses and taxis and fast food and that, so the haze of smog over the city I can see in the distance doesn't bother me one little bit. But Jayesh doesn't seem to get it, he doesn't think I can look out for myself while I have a little look at the shops and the stalls, but can't tell him I can look after myself because I'm a trained killer, can I? Not unless I want to frighten the poor little bugger to death.

Got to say it still bothers me to see all the kids and especially the really little ones playing by the road, actually playing in the gutter some of them and near where people are cooking their breakfasts on the pavement. You can see the pots are steaming bloody hot, so the whole thing strikes me as being bleeding dangerous, but there's bugger all I can do about it is there? I know that.

Sir Galahad finally let me out the car at the park gates, but then told me he was going to stay exactly where he'd parked up and wait for me to be done with my walk. Didn't matter I kept shaking my head, I could see he wasn't going to let me make my own way back, well not unless I managed to break his heart and sneak past him when he wasn't looking. He was doing that smiling and nodding thing again like he did at the airport as he settled himself down to wait, so we were back to me wondering how good his bloody English actually is. But you know what, I think it's fine but that he was determined he wasn't going to change his mind no matter what, it was like banging my bleeding head against a brick wall.

The park is not a bit like the parks we have at home, the grass is very lush and very green like it's been watered and trimmed with nail scissors, and there are no paths or benches or dog shit bins and goes without saying there's no dog shit either, well not that I can see. And there's no kids' playground either, nothing, and no litter to be seen anywhere. It all looks really well cared for, so I think people must do what everyone bangs on about and takes their crap back home with them. It's actually some sort of great big old fort in the middle of a huge lawn with some trees and that and I don't know whether it's sacred or not, whether it's some sort of shrine, but it's apparently one of the oldest ones in Delhi. And that's everything I know about it. Don't know what it was built for or who built it, or how long ago or anything, all I know is that the staff at the hotel are well proud of it, at least the waitress at breakfast and the receptionist were all smiles when they recommended it to me as the place to go when I asked where was good for a walk. And it's peaceful and empty of people and it's not yet hot enough for me to be sweating and looking for some shade, so it's good a place as any to walk and kill time till I can ring Charles. I'm determined I am not going to wake him up at ridiculous bloody o'clock again, it would be the third day in a row.

"Morning beautiful … okay?" Oh, fuck think I might have just woken him after all "You're late this morning, I was starting to think you weren't going to ring … was just thinking of ringing you … did you oversleep?" Okay, so maybe not.

"Nah … I was trying to be nice and not wake you up, wasn't I? … it's nearly time for lunch here" It wasn't "Didn't wake you then?"

Actually, I really wanted to ask what the fuck had taken him so long to answer if he wasn't asleep. I'd almost hung up, had seriously begun to think my timing was still a bit shit and either he was asleep, or was in the loo or something. I was even a bit bothered I might have waited too long and he was on his way to work, was in the car and he doesn't usually answer if he's driving. But whatever he said about not still being asleep, his voice was all husky and gruff sounding like he'd just woken up, or he hadn't talked for a bit, which I suppose was good because it meant Etta hadn't sent Ginger over to keep him company. Not that I really thought that would happen, he wouldn't have let her in for a start, would he? But you know, well, you never know, do you? And tell you what, he sounded like he still needed his first coffee, I can usually tell. Ever since I've known him, he's always said he's not a fully functioning soldier till he's had that first cup, that is one thing never changes, but got to say I hadn't noticed. Still could be we're talking about different things.

"Nope … anyway it's time I was up … where are you?"

"Sitting on a wall in some park, Putana something or other, well, it's some sort of fort, and it's well nice, think it must be a monument to someone, well, bound to be …. I'll take some pictures if you like, show you when I get home … I just thought I'd have a bit of a walk and get some fresh air" That was a whopping great lie for a start, no-one in their right bloody mind could call the air fresh exactly "And then I'm off to the clinic ... need to make sure we're all sorted and see how we're doing after they do another check on him before we leave, did I tell you they've managed to get us a non-stop direct flight so that's good … gotta be a lot better than all that hanging about"

I was doing my exceptionally wonderful Oscar winning performance of being someone without a care in the world, that the whole thing was no biggie even if I was fucking dreading it. I hope they've done another scan. I don't fancy all those hours sitting next to someone and watching their every twitch like a fucking hawk, trying to work out if it means something. Or not. I need to be sure, well sure as I can be, that they've done everything they possibly can to check he's not going to die on me any minute. I'm still shit scared to be honest.

"Are you sure you're okay, Moll?"

"Yeah … course, why wouldn't I be?" Oh fuck … what made me say that? Stupid. Why was I inviting him to start asking stuff I didn't want to talk about? "Don't worry… really there's no need, I told you … I'm fine, it's all good"

"If you say so …. what time will you be back?"

"All being well, we land about 7.00 ish your time … with a bit of luck we'll probably sleep the whole way …" Oh please god, or Lady Luck or whoever, please let that be the truth "Then I gotta hang about with him till he gets picked up, can't just dump him at the airport, they're collecting him and he's stopping there for a couple of days … getting checked over again before he's allowed to fly home"

"Who's collecting him?"

"London Clinic"

"Right … so what's actually the matter with him? … you didn't say"

"Didn't I? Had a bit of a road accident and believe me that's not hard to do here" Shit, the last thing I wanted was to start getting into it, don't even want to think about it, I know I sort of vowed I was going to stop pretending everything's okay when it's not, but I didn't mean work. I meant Amber and his mum and that. Anyway, when you start running your mouth about something it makes the worry more real, doesn't it? Makes it so you can't put it on the back burner and pretend it's not happening even if you want to, because once you open your bleeding trap they're going to start wanting to know stuff and you're going to have to keep answering questions and I don't want to, thanks very much. But I don't want him to be worried about me coping, either "Don't worry he's okay now, he's well on the mend …" And the Oscar definitely goes to me.

"Good … you haven't said much to me about him"

"Haven't I? What do you wanna know? His name's Noel … Noel Dexter like the serial killer" I heard him give this little huff and knew he didn't have a bloody clue what I was on about "Says he's not related though and that he's nothing like that, doesn't kill people for an 'obby … he's about your age, bit younger and he's a photo-journalist, whatever the fuck one of them is …'n let me see now, he's a septic tank, comes from somewhere called Martha's Vineyard which he reckons is well nice, he's built himself an house on the beach there, showed me the photos and yeah, it looks nice … the place is not a vineyard as such, at least don't think they have grapes 'n that, might have I s'pose, but it's some sort of holiday resort where they do water sports and that … he told me I'd love it … and then laughed when I said how unlikely that was, he thought it was dead funny when I said I'd very probably hate it, that I don't do water and definitely not water sports ... anyway he reckons it's even better this time of year … really snowy and cold … anyway, bloody idiot was hanging off the back of a motorbike taking these pictures or that's what he told me…"

"Sounds like he's been telling you quite a bit"

"Not really … what makes you say that?" He hasn't, has he? No more than Ron, well alright no more than Marge told me, I don't think, and I mean Noel is a cocky git who's totally full of shit, so much so that at first I'd wondered if he just says stuff, you know, makes it up to make himself look glamorous … although he's already pretty bloody sure he's god's gift. But then funny enough, I do like him. A lot.

"No particular reason … it just sounds as if the two of have been getting on … really well … and that's a good thing" I wish he sounded like he meant that, but you know something, I don't think he means it at all.

"Are you annoyed about something? You sound like you are … there's nothing … you got nothing to be … worried about …" I very nearly said nothing to be bloody jealous about, but just stopped in time, I'm not sure saying that would have helped.

"No of course I'm not … stop being ridiculous" That's funny, he doesn't sound okay, he sounds pissy and Charles always tells me not to be ridiculous when he's being a Muppet over something. I hadn't meant to go on about Noel, didn't think I had really, but that's what he seemed to be saying, that's what he's thinking "Look, don't worry about it Moll, I'm going to have to go or I'll be late … I'll see you tomorrow and we'll talk then … just … look after yourself and be careful, won't you? Stay safe … love you"

"Ditto"

Yeah fine, that's a really good idea, you go on and go and get yourself ready for work, you don't want to be late, do you? And never mind about me. But no point in banging on trying to make him see he's got it wrong, is there? He was doing that adding two and two together and making twenty-two bollocks, the one he always used to be so bloody good at, and there's no point in me trying to talk him round when he's all sulky and cross and alright plain bloody jealous over nothing. Better to just let him get on with it, I know that, didn't stop me wanting to put my head down and howl though.

-OG-

"I think I'm in love"

"Nah …Noel … just bl… just pack it in, will you? It's not funny, I'm being serious here … I need you to promise me that if you get any sort of headache or funny feeling or anything anywhere, anything at all, you'll tell me straight off, okay?"

"Anything?"

"I'm gonna pretend I don't know what you mean … 'n stop trying to wind me up"

"Okay, okay … god save me from fussy women, you're worse than my mom … here I am trying to tell you that every time I look at someone as beautiful as you are I get all sorts of funny feelings … in my heart and …" He smirked "And then you accuse me of joking … very hurtful … anyone would think you don't believe in love at first sight?"

"Well … maybe you should stop looking at yourself in the mirror" I was quite proud of that, especially as I wasn't at my best. I could still hear the cold clipped tone of his voice when he said he loved me, Charles not Noel, and how it had bloody hurt. But usually I can only think of a come-back a bleeding long time after when it's far too late "And you better be joking, Noel .. you're my patient, you're in my charge" Wonder where I've heard that before? I'll be telling him he's got to stay focussed in a minute. Shit, tell you what is really hard is trying to be careful with the not swearing, especially when he's enough to make a bloody saint swear "Look, just do me a favour and give the _lover boy _stuff a rest" I wanted him to take it all a bit seriously for a minute, wasn't sure he knew when enough was bloody enough, not sure he can see I don't think he's as irresistible as he does. Doubt there's anyone out there who does, well, apart from his mother I suppose.

"I don't know what the world is coming to, call yourself a nurse? I've been very sick I'll have you know … didn't they tell you about my _very serious head injury"_ He did those bunny ears in the air to show he was quoting what someone else had told him "I very nearly died, that nice young doctor, the pretty one, told me I'm lucky to still be alive … got to do my best to make the most of it from now on" The words were obviously dead serious, but were somewhat spoilt by the huge smirk that was all over his gob.

"Make the most of what? And I'm not a nurse, never said I was, did I? I'm a medic but right now you better believe I'm your warder … my job to stop you escaping on the way home"

Yeah I know, I really should stop feeding him with opportunities to try and flirt with me, he does not need any encouraging. I know he thinks he's being dead funny, nah alright he thinks he's being fucking hilarious as well as irresistible. But he's not. Well, alright he is a bit, I'm a bit bloody miserable and he's beginning to make me want to smile, not that I'm going to let him see that.

"Did she also tell you it's a well-known side effect from having a serious head injury?"

"What is? A desperate longing, no a _need_ to cuddle and get up close and personal with your warder?" No point in answering that was there? I got a feeling he can keep it up a lot longer than I can, wouldn't mind betting he's had more practice.

"Nah .. being deluded … look … just listen to me, Noel, and stop messing for a minute, it's important … your scan was clear but you gotta do exactly what I tell you, it's my job to take proper care of you and do whatever it takes to make sure you get back home in one bit, well back to London, 'n that'll really be much harder if you keep messing and refusing to …" Have you ever felt like you're wasting your bloody breath? He's what's that word again? Incorrigible "I'm trying to look out for you here"

"Is that a promise? Are you promising me you're going to do everything you can to look out for my every need and to take proper care of them? Brilliant, I've always wanted to join the Mile High Club"

"Not even in your wildest dreams, mate … I'm pretty sure my husband would have something to say about that"

Suddenly I could hear someone else laughing like a drain and saying pretty much the same thing on a dusty parade ground in Helmand, another cocky little sod who'd thought he was hilarious and wasn't, one who'd been my very best mate. I couldn't do anything to save him, could I? But then I hadn't known there was anything to watch for when he was pratting about in the back of that taxi or when he'd run out onto the pitch at Upton Park, but now the memories of him had the backs of my eyes prickling and I wanted to yell at Noel to stop being such a fucking moron. Showing off the way he was wasn't funny and it wasn't even original, and it might mean he was playing silly buggers with his life. But I couldn't do that, could I? Not up to me to tell the patient he's being a dick, even if it's true, so I had to look down and pretend to be busy checking over the discharge notes, the ones I'd already checked. Twice. I needed time to hide my face and pull myself together, all that shit with Smurf was a long time back now, and should be well buried in the past, and it had been up till now. But now it was making me so fucking weepy I couldn't help wishing I was at home.

"Hey … sorry …I've upset you, haven't I? Sorry … couldn't resist … but please tell me I haven't … I didn't mean to cross the line… I thought we were just having fun … and … I didn't actually know you've got a husband, you're not wearing a ring … so…"

"Nah, you haven't, I'm not upset, and I don't wear them for work"

I fished out the chain from round my neck and waved my rings under his nose, it would be a bit hard to try and explain why they were hanging round my neck and not on my finger without going into things. And I wasn't going to do that. There was no bleeding way I was going to do any of that _sharing _shit, he's not my bleeding therapist and I wasn't going toexplain the whole _just back together after being separated for three years _thing. And had got no intention of telling him about me not coming clean at work, hadn't even told Charles so it was definitely none of Noel's business, was it? And it seems it was my day for pissing people off. One look at the expression on his face and I could see he wasn't best pleased, actually he looked like he was about to get dead arsey about it, but I suppose that might just be him being really embarrassed about being a bit of a sleaze and I can understand that

.

-OG-

It didn't work out quite how I expected, I mean the flight was pretty much the same as any other, we were nearly on time leaving but we'd been upgraded to First Class, which made Business look like a bit like cattle class. Well maybe not quite but it was well lovely and very empty. I was pretty sure the upgrade had a lot to do with the impressive bandage Noel was still sporting round his nut, I think that, together with my uniform and med kit worried them. I think they thought it might well frighten the other passengers on the flight because it was a bleeding long time for people to sit still and worry about some other bugger conking out, maybe even ending up brown bread. Know the feeling.

The first couple of hours was okay, not too bad. I did manage to stop asking him if he was okay too often, well we were down to only once every so often, okay until he started to get a bit huffy and sarcastic when he even bothered to answer and didn't just look at me. We'd both downloaded films to watch on our personal screen things, his was some American thing with a lot of car chases and cops shooting each other 'n that and I picked some chick lit thing that I'd never heard of. I really thought it would give my brain something else to occupy it, deflect it from worrying about Noel and counting the hours till we got there, and there were still far too many of those for my liking, and from thinking about Charles. Wondering what he was doing and whether he'd calmed down yet and if was sorry. But it was no wonder I'd never heard of the film, it was some South American shit with loads of blokes dressed as bullfighters in skin-tight pants that left nothing to the imagination, actually it reminded me a bit of Chipolata Man. And not only that, it had fucking subtitles, didn't it? And I don't do subtitles. Watching something and listening as people rabbit on when you don't understand a dicky bird and trying to follow the action and read the screen at the same time always ends up making me drop off, even when I'm not tired. Just ask Charles.

I think I might actually have dozed off for a bit, because I woke with one hell of a start when Noel shook my arm.

"Molly?"

"Shit … what … shit … sorry … was I asleep? … Nah I wasn't asleep" Christ, deep breath Moll "What's wrong?"

"Sorry … I hate to wake you … but … I really do need the facilities ... and you made me promise I wouldn't move as much as a single muscle without telling you … so … please miss, can you take me for a pee?"

Shit I had said that, hadn't I? And talk about giving me a Julius? But I hadn't really given any thought to what would happen if he needed a pee on the plane and that had been bound to happen, hadn't it?

"Come on then … didn't you do what I said and go before we left?" I couldn't help giggling, I think it was the relief.

"Sorry Mom, you are going to come in with me, aren't you, to keep an eye on me, what happens if I have a funny turn?"

"I'll give you a funny turn in a minute … stop pushing your luck"

Yeah alright, he's right, I did say that didn't I? But made no difference how much he waggled his eyebrows at me or smirked like that, there was no bloody way I was going in the shitter to hold it for him, he was on his own. And giggling with him like I was probably wasn't my most professional moment ever, was it? But a bit of me was flooded with an almost overwhelming sense of relief.


	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and left such lovely comments on the last chapter, I do hope you enjoy this and that it's not too long, you know what I'm like when I get carried away. **_

_**Am I Losing you?**_

"Hope he appreciates what a lucky son of a bitch he is"

Shouldn't think so, somehow right now I doubt it, not if yesterday in the park is anything to go by. Tell you what though, can't say anything without it'll sound like I'm begging for compliments or I'm selling tickets on myself. Noel really does think he's the dog's bollocks, he's so bleeding convinced he's irresistible that he really did think I'd invented an imaginary husband to use as a sort of human shield, you know, to help me keep my distance because he's a patient and there's probably rules and regulations about it. Talk about selling tickets on yourself, he takes the whole bleeding packet of hob nobs. Showed him the photos on my phone, didn't I? Alright I know I didn't have to but I was a bit bloody annoyed he'd even think I'd make it up, call it my pride or whatever, but I wanted him to see I had a very real husband, that I didn't bloody need to make anything up, although can't actually tell you why I felt the need to prove anything at all to some prat who'd fallen off a bleeding motorbike and cracked his bloody head open. Beyond me. One thing I did know, it made no difference at all whether I had a husband or not, there was zero chance of him ever getting in my knickers.

He did go a bit quiet when he looked at the photos, especially the ones of Charles in his uniform looking all gorgeous and smiling at the camera, at me, and then he only bloody asked whether he was in the army, or the military as he called it. I mean, can't tell you how tempted I was to say _nah, we just get off on him dressing up as a soldier, _I mean, for fuck sake! Or maybe he knows a lot of people who do that, dress up, you know, wear costumes to have their photo taken? Come to think of it, probably better not to ask. I did tell him how I'd been in the army, sorry _the military,_ as well and that it was there I'd trained as a medic, but I said I'd thought it would be good to see the world, that I'd wanted to see places that weren't having bloody wars and that. Didn't tell him Charles and me weren't together at the time even when he asked about how _my hubby _as he called Charles felt about me leaving the army to do this instead. I lied, didn't I? Told him all about meeting him in Afghan and that when you're in the army you get used to being deployed and spending time away from each other. Alright, when I say I told him _all _about it, maybe not quite everything, I gave him the edited highlights and left out the bits that made me look bad, but then doesn't everyone do that? And alright, maybe I might have misled him a bit when I let him think Charles and me have been together in some sort of _can't keep our hands off of each other_ married bliss for all of the last four years. I mean, it's not that I lied exactly, I was just a bit fucking economical with the truth when he asked how long we'd been married.

To be really truthful I was beginning to get bored with hearing him keep going on about how bloody wonderful he thinks I am, okay I admit a bit of it had been quite good to start with, flattering, but I'm bloody sure he doesn't think anything of the sort. He's just saying it as part of the relentless stream of bullshit that comes out of his sodding trap, never gives it a rest, does he? I'm pretty sure it's the only way he knows how to talk to a woman, if he's not flirting he's lost for what to say, but he doesn't seem to realise that it doesn't make me want to jump his bones, it makes me want to strangle him. One good thing I suppose is that getting irritated with him the way I was meant my brain forgot to panic every time he shut his eyes or twitched or something.

Then it was nearly over. The lights had gone up and they'd started chucking breakfasts at us so it definitely wasn't going to be long before he was someone else's bloody problem and knowing him he'll be busy professing undying love for some nurse at the London Clinic about an hour after getting there. I don't actually believe he means to be quite such a big-headed twat, I'm sure it's got a lot to do with how he looks, doesn't matter how much of a tosspot he is, he's still a bleeding attractive one. Better when he doesn't open his gob of course, but I'm pretty sure there's a queue of women probably fighting to drop their knickers for him and I think he's just got so used to people thinking he's sex on legs that he believes it himself now. He told me he's on his own, that his wife pissed off a while back, although he didn't say what happened and I didn't ask, but have to say he did seem more upset about her taking the dog with her than anything else. To be truthful, I couldn't think of what to say, well, nothing that didn't sound downright bloody rude. I couldn't tell him I thought she'd have to have been a plaster saint to put up with his bollocks in the first place, could I? But if he was hoping to get a bit of sympathy, you know, if he thought that telling me his sad life history and pulling his version of puppy dog eyes was going to get him anywhere, he was sadly mistaken. He was wasting his bloody time with me; he's got a bleeding long way to go before he's anything like as good at it as Charles. You know, it's not that I don't like him, Noel I mean, I do, well, a bit, I'm sure he could be a really top bloke, but all that needing to chat up every female with a pulse is bloody exhausting and if he knew anything about me at all he'd know I'd never be up for a bit of messing around with him.

-OG-

"Not long now … we'll be landing shortly but I'm afraid the weather in London is really not looking that great this morning … sorry guys"

Not sure why he was saying sorry for the weather, he wasn't responsible was he? But all I really heard were the words _landing shortly_ and this huge great wave of relief was flooding me and making me light headed for a second which meant I didn't hear anything else. But I heard that, nearly over. I'd made it with no fucking up on my part, not once. He was definitely still breathing. Noel I mean, not the steward. The steward seemed fine as well as he fussed and farted about clearing breakfast cups when to me it still seemed like the middle of the bloody night, and then did all the usual checks to make sure everything was all tidied away. He checked the med kit was secure and kept giving me these little sideways looks, was probably wondering why the fuck I had this huge great big grin on my gob, he was probably wondering what I was finding so funny.

He obviously decided I was just being friendly and smiled back, not a real smile but the same fixed one he'd had all bloody night, probably thought I was what Nan would call a sandwich short of a picnic but I couldn't quite switch it off. He checked the seats were upright and reminded us we had to stay sitting when we landed because of Immigration coming on board to check us and all the time he was giving me these little looks. I'm not entirely sure what's supposed to happen to me once we're down, an ambulance car will collect Noel from the tarmac and he'll be whisked off to the London Clinic but I don't think they're expecting me to go with him. Still never mind, one thing at a time, let's just get off the pissing thing without worrying about anything else. Don't trouble trouble and all that.

"I just wanted to say thank you Molly … you've been really great, a total star … I can't tell you how grateful I am …"

"That's alright, you're welcome … nothing to be grateful for … told you before, my job to get you home in one bit"

"You gonna tell me now why you were quite so concerned?"

"Wasn't … not specially …" He raised an eyebrow like Charles does when he doesn't quite believe me "Okay, it's just … you know sometimes when someone's got an head injury they look like they're doing fine, nothing wrong at all but then underneath something not so great is going on … so I was just watching out and making sure … now promise me you'll be careful from now on, no more hanging off of motorbikes and forgetting to wear an 'elmet … you might not be so lucky next time"

"Yes Mom, I know … promise …I think I can safely say I've learned that lesson" He did that crossing your heart thing like he really was a kid, actually think he is in a lot of ways, but I also think he saw from my face that I didn't want to talk about it. I had no wish to think about what had happened to Smurf, I was worried I'd end up in tears "Will he be meeting you?"

"Who?" Meeting me? I don't know, do I? But I bloody doubt it. Don't know if he's even talking to me.

"Hubby … who did you think I was talking about? Santy Claus?"

"Is he the fat geezer with the white beard and the red suit? … Nah, don't know him, do I? … and no-one will be meeting me … I'm not going straight home, gotta go in the office first 'n do my report, tell them that in spite of everything I didn't actually lob you out the plane"

"Oh Lord I wasn't that bad, was I?" He was bloody batting his eyelashes at me again all wide-eyed and innocent but you can't tell someone you're bloody glad to see the back of them, can you? You have to lie.

"Nah course not … now do up your seat belt before that nice steward comes back and yells at you"

"Yes Mom … you know I'm glad I wasn't too much of a pain in the arse because I've been thinking …"

"Sounds dangerous …"

"Maybe… but, it's just a thought … I might well find myself needing someone to hold my hand if I'm right and the airline will be awkward about me travelling on my own, probably be scared I'll sue the frigging pants off them if anything happens and I was just wondering how you're fixed … I mean, how would you feel if I asked you to come home with me? I can show you my house on the beach … and we can make a snowman if you like and …"

"Oh … sorry mate … it doesn't quite work like that" I got no idea whether it does or it doesn't, I've never heard of anyone asking for someone in particular, but then I've not done it for that long, could be it happens all the time, who knows? But what's more to the point is that I don't think I want to "Thanks anyway … look, if you have to have someone your insurance company will ask us to provide an escort … dunno if they'll let you choose who that is … or if my boss will let them do a pic 'n mix on it … but no harm in asking I s'pose"

"A pic 'n mix? Oh, right I see, but you're saying it wouldn't be a problem for you if I was to tell them I'd really like for it to be you?"

"Nah, course not … happy to help" Yeah I know, I'm lying, but I feel like I haven't slept for a year and my brain is struggling to come up with a good enough excuse, one that doesn't hurt his feelings because I don't think I want to do that, and there's no law says I can't say okay and then change my mind after, is there?

-OG-

That steward wasn't bloody kidding when he told us the weather was shit. It was just starting to get a bit light but it was so grey and wet and gloomy, and after being sat in a nice warm plane all night the wind was un-fucking-believably cold. It was going through me like a sodding knife and soon as I stuck my nose out the door, I wished more than anything I had my coat with me instead of just my sweatshirt, oh, and a hat and a scarf and some gloves would be good and all. The bloody sleet stinging my face and head to buggery was nearly horizontal so fuck knows what it was doing to Noel. He'd had this bit of a run-in with the paramedic from the Clinic who'd come on board to help, had insisted he was going to walk off, so bloody idiot could have been strapped in a stretcher chair and wrapped up in nice warm blankets. But at least he was wearing a pea jacket with the collar up so was better wrapped up than me. Tell you what though, easy to forget that until yesterday he'd been in hospital in a really hot country for weeks, had only just been allowed to get out of bed for fuck sake and even though the stubborn little fucker kept insisting he was good, he was bloody pale, looked almost blue and his lips were purple. I could see the paramedic was bothered, and I can't tell you how glad I was to see the blue light of the ambulance car and know that at least there wasn't going to be any bloody waiting out on the tarmac. Would probably give him pneumonia. Me and all.

And then it was over. Done. Finished. The paramedic had bundled him into the nice warm car out the wind and the wet and they were gone and I didn't really have enough time to say goodbye or anything. I only just had time to wave before that was it and I was left standing by the gangway thingy shivering and feeling a mix of utter relief, bloody euphoric that it was over as well as seven shades of shit from the whole fucking nightmare. I'd just spent days on end bloody certain that he was going to cark it any second, I'd had this permanent churning knot of worry in my guts, and you know what, I couldn't even think why now. My nice steward showed me where to get the bus, and then I collected my bag and went to find my taxi feeling like I was in some sort of a dream, and did my best not to keep on looking round me to see if a tall dark bloke with curly hair had come to meet me. He hadn't.

-OG-

I didn't want to open my eyes and wake up. I wanted to stay exactly where I was crashed out asleep on the sofa but I could hear cups rattling in the kitchen and music playing softly so I knew he was back from wherever it was he'd been when I got home. I'd got no idea what the time was or how long I'd been asleep but he'd tucked the duvet over me and I was warm and comfortable and the room was cosy where he'd shut the curtains and put on the table lamp. It felt like it was late, but don't remember settling myself down on the sofa for a kip, in fact I'm sure I didn't, I remembered getting home to an empty house and feeling cold and struggling not to bawl from tiredness and I suppose from him not being there, so that I'd decided to just have a bit of a sit down while I waited for the heating to crank up.

"Hello you … there you go" When I got my eyes prised open, he was standing over me with a cup and then squatted down and put it carefully in my hand, wrapping my fingers round it to make sure I had hold. He waited for a couple of seconds and then took it away again and put it on the end table "Careful … it's hot …. Ididn't know whether to wake you … but I thought you'd be better in bed"

"What time is it?"

"Nearly 4 …"

"Is it? Shit …I've been asleep bloody hours …" I sort of struggled to get untangled from the duvet and to sit up properly, hard when you're trying not to let any bit of you poke out of where it was lovely and warm and I was afraid the room might still feel cold. In spite of having been asleep for bloody hours and hours I badly wanted to just settle back down and close my eyes and go back off. But there was tea and I was bloody parched. I'd had nothing since a cup of the horrible stuff that passes for airline tea at breakfast and that felt like it was yesterday and I sort of knew from how my mouth was coated and dry that I'd been asleep with it wide open, probably snoring. And my tummy was growling and rumbling, couldn't actually swear to the last time I'd had anything to eat, but it felt like about a week ago.

He squeezed his bum into the gap on the sofa next to me and shoved my legs to one side to make enough room before he lifted them back up onto his lap and wrapped his hands round my ankles. He turned and smiled at me, smiling the sort of smile that should be illegal.

"Missed you"

"Did you? Really? Got a funny way of showing it"

"I know … and I'm sorry …"

"Yeah … should be, you was a bit bleeding horrible … and I didn't know why, like I don't know why you're grinning at me like that, what's so bleeding funny? … there's nothing funny"

I sounded petulant and I hadn't actually been going to say anything at all till I'd worked out exactly what I wanted to say, but even if I'd of waited I couldn't swear I'd manage to be all cool and calm and detached the way I wanted, he'd really upset me, had made me wonder what the fuck I was doing. Ever since we'd been back together I'd thought the worst thing would be for me to see him leave again, but the last few days had been really shitting horrible, the whole Noel thing and then Charles being all sulky and then him not being here when I got home. I mean I didn't want to get all deranged until I'd thought it through, but not sure if this is what I want anymore. But that didn't mean I wanted to fly off the handle, would probably end up saying something I might be sorry for afterwards.

"I'm not grinning because I find anything remotely funny about any of this, I'm just _really _happy to see you … happy you came back"

"Why wouldn't I? Where the fuck did you expect me to go?"

"I didn't expect you to go anywhere … well … as least I hoped you wouldn't, I was afraid you'd be tempted to go running off to Martha's Vineyard with him to admire his fucking beach house"

"What? Why would I do that? I thought you knew me better"

"Indeed … I do … I do know you … at least I thought I did but then I listened to you talking about him and it all sounded … I could tell … could hear it, I knew from the way you sounded that you liked him … a lot … and that there was something you weren't telling me"

"Yeah, you're right … there was … but not what you thought… talk about jumping to conclusions … 'n I would never … even if I liked him, which I'm not sure I do, and definitely not the way you mean … I didn't tell you … he had a fucking head injury Charles … I just spent days with someone I thought was about to drop dead on me … another Smurf"

"Oh fuck … oh Molly … you should have told me … I'm sorry … was it alright, are you alright? I wish I'd known"

"I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd be worried, … thought you would be anyway but … then you got all shitty and I never got the chance to tell you, and never mind you thinking I was gonna run off with some Septic who by the way is so full of shit that even if he had a personality transplant he'd be the last person on earth I'd wanna shag…" I had to stop and take a breath, didn't I? I seemed to have got myself a bit wound up "Where the fuck was you when I got home 'n don't say work, it's Sat'day and unless wars broke out, I know you wasn't… and …." I had to take another deep breath, didn't I? But I was buggered if I was going to give in and cry "And … why didn't you come and meet me?"

"I … didn't know you wanted me to… I'm sorry … I was being a dick … and I was out shopping when you got home … there was no food in the bloody house … where did you think I was?"

"Dunno … should have left me a message, shouldn't you? … Why didn't you?"

"What … like the ones in the kitchen … and the bathroom and the one where I copied your stroke of brilliance, the one on your pillow … I can't help it if you didn't look, Moll"

"Oh"

"Yep … _Oh _indeed… where did you think I was, anyway?"

"Look I know I probably got it a bit wrong … but couldn't help it, we never really talked about … about you and her and what with Etta trying to push me out to make room for her … I couldn't help thinking …."

"What are you talking about, or perhaps I should say, who?" Got to admit he did look a bit puzzled "Please just tell me you're not talking about Amber, because we did talk about her, and I thought I'd told you everything there was to tell, you know I didn't love her… don't love her" He shook his head slowly from side to side "And I'm not seeing her now nor am I ever going to see her in the future, why the fuck would I? You do know that if I could go back and change all of it, I would, don't you? But I can't"

"S'pose not … but …I wasn't here 'n she's dead pretty and your family love her … alright your mum does … and you took her to Bath with you and …"

"I thought we'd already had this conversation… and what difference does it make you not being here?" He was starting to sound a little bit impatient, which wasn't going to help anything was it? "You know, when I met you …my life was pretty much under control, I had the career I'd always wanted and I enjoyed the day to day, actually thought I was pretty good at it, or at least was getting there, and okay maybe my marriage hadn't been my greatest triumph, but that was all over and done with and there was Sammie … and then … there was you … you bloody crashed into my life and turned everything upside down … and … it hasn't been the same since"

He snorted that little laugh of his and then started to tug at the hairs on the back of his neck, and I can't tell you why but for some stupid bloody reason all I could think about was I'd been going to tell him about making himself bald doing that. Don't know why I started to think about it now, but I did as he shook his head slowly and then looked back at me again.

"And I wouldn't change a single thing about it … Of course I know Amber is pretty, I'm not blind … but … she's not you, is she? And you're all I've ever wanted … I remember telling you once that I'll adore you for always … and … well, nothing's changed"

"Really? Thought that was only if I got you your coffee"

"No that is not what you thought … you knew exactly what I meant"

"I'm sorry there's stuff I haven't told you"

"Oh fuck … what else?"

"Nothin'" I can't, can I, just can't "I'd been thinking we might of rushed everything again, that we might of got it wrong … like last time…"

"We didn't get it wrong last time Moll, we just didn't realise how right it was …"

One of the tears I'd been trying hard to swallow started to leak so I did a bit of sniffing and then tried to wipe it away on the duvet without him seeing. I was not bawling, okay, it was just I was tired and feeling emotional and it had been a very long and fucking hard week.

"Noooo…no …no …no … don't cry … come on Dawsey … you know I can't stand it when you cry"

"Not crying"

"No, sorry, of course you're not"

"I'm not" Then I seemed to be on his lap somehow trying my hardest not to bawl my bloody eyes out as he held me tight against him and began to drop all these little kisses on the top of my head.

"When I was away … and I'd see things that … well things that were hard to forget, you know, I'd used to do my best to try and conjure you up in my head, even when I was sure you didn't love me anymore … just knowing you were out there somewhere made everything better… and now drink your bloody tea before its stone cold"

"Already is … Charles?"

"I know … on my way … give me your cup"

"Thank you … love another one … a hot one … but … was gonna say I'm bloody starving 'n all … what we got?"

"Oysters? Sushi? Fillet steak?"

"Yeah very funny …"

"Oven chips?"

"Now you're talking … with an egg 'n all?"

"Of course, my signature dish …Oh and Moll?"

"What?"

"Have you looked out of the window? It's snowing"

"It's not, why didn't you bloody tell me?"

"I'm telling you now"

The duvet seemed to have tangled itself round my legs which made it bloody hard to jump up to have a look without falling over, so dragged it with me.

"What did I tell you?"

"Wow … it is 'n all … must of been snowing for bloody hours" I love it. Snow I mean, I always want it to snow on and on and I can see it's been snowing for ages, these great big flakes have been settling into a deep blanket of white over all the road and the walls and giving the street lights littler hats and that. It looks like it's really deep and there's this funny sort of half-light outside, even though it's usually pitch dark by this time "It's beautiful"

"Yup" He was standing behind me with his arms round my waist and pulled me back so I was leaning against him as we watched it falling steadily past the window. As Nan would say it was snowing to buggery. She hates it, moans like hell about how cold and slippery and horrible it is, which to be fair is pretty true in east Ham where it turns to slush straight away but still makes it hard to get to Bingo. I could hear the smile in his voice as I felt him rest his chin on top of my head "Oh yeah, totally … completely … utterly … bloody beautiful … the snow isn't bad either"

"Oi … you calling me an 'it'?"

"Of course not …" I could hear him smirking "Well maybe… but you know what I mean"

-OG-


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N: I hope you enjoy this the penultimate chapter, and a huge thank you to everyone who is still following and who took the time and trouble to review the last chapter … and as always thank you to Flossy for her unwavering support.**_

_**You think that I don't even mean  
A single word I say  
It's only words and words are all I have  
To take your heart away**_

"I been thinking"

"Oh god ... that sounds dangerous …"

"You know, you might gonna need to think about changing your bleeding scriptwriter, that one's a bit shit"

"Worked pretty well up till now"

"If you say so … you carry on believing that if it's what you want … but … you gonna listen? I'm not gonna try'n tell you if you're gonna be a smartarse"

"Oh god, this sounds serious … I'm not going to like it, am I? Go on then, I'm all ears … but only if you're not going to say you've changed your mind, I don't want to hear that"

"Why would I say that? 'n there's nothing" Got no idea what he's even talking about, never mind why he's grinning, but seems something's amusing him. Don't ask me.

"Sorry … and of course there's nothing funny … so what have you been thinking?"

"And now you sound like you're patting me on the 'ead"

"I didn't mean to, come on, tell me … what's up?"

"Abu Dhabi … have you actually done anything about it yet?"

"Nope … I can't, not until we have some firm idea about dates, but I will, just as soon as we know … I haven't forgotten…"

"Nah that's not it … I was thinking … I mean … is it something you're really hanging out to do? … cos, I'm not sure I am … I mean, it's snowing innit? Not that that's got anything to do with it, I know that, but might be we gonna have a white Christmas … bit of a bleeding shame to miss that and …anyway it's a really long way, a long time on a plane … even in first class and …"

This wasn't sounding a bit like it had when I'd rehearsed it in my head, because then it had sounded all reasonable and as if I'd given it a whole lot of proper consideration, now it just sounded like I didn't want to go and was coming out with a load of excuses. Which was sort of true, I suppose, but that didn't mean I didn't mean it.

"I been thinking I'd quite like if we could have Christmas here … not go to Bath, or nothing, don't wanna do that, but 'ere, just the two of us? We could get a tree and … 'ave a proper Christmas dinner … we never had a Christmas together, not a proper one, not just the two of us, did we? … We could shut the front door and turn the phones off and pretend we're not here if anyone comes looking … and will you please stop sighing like that and pulling faces… and say something … what do you think?"

"First class? Fuck, what happened to Business?"

"Got upgraded 'n it's well nice … the people that know say it's the only way to travel … still never mind about all that, that isn't …" By people what I actually meant was the girls in the office but I think he took me seriously about first class, there was this look of horror on his face before he very quickly masked it the way he does "Look … what do you think? I mean about us stopping here instead? And maybe going to Abu Dhabi later on …" There was still this deafening bleeding silence from him which made me think that it's possible I'd got it all wrong "Look … I'm sorry … it don't matter if you don't want to, if you'd rather do what we planned, that's okay too, I mean we can always do the Christmas thing another time …"

"What? Like Easter?" He put his head back and laughed "Of course I'm not upset … I can't think of anything I'd like more than to shut the front door and be just the two of us for Christmas … be a whole lot cheaper for a start" He had this smirk on his face when he said about the cost which if he wasn't dead careful was going to make me itch to slap it off him "I'm not sure about the white Christmas thing though … the snow probably won't last that long … or about who should cook Christmas dinner, we'll need to talk about that"

"I thought you could … or I will, make sure you get your Brocolli"

"Lovely … am I going to need it? I do hope so"

"Well as long as it's not your mum cooking the dinner … and it's good I won't have to sing carols to get you in the Christmas mood … sorry, I know how disappointed you'll be ... but if you ask me nicely, I might still do it"

"Lovely … is that a promise? … I can't think of anything I'd like more"

"You liar … 'ere … did you mean me singing or me not singing? And before you say anything you was the one who made me sing, so it was your fault me mouth was too close to your easily offended earhole, I did tell you it wasn't my best thing, but you didn't listen, too busy being the boss making me do it in front of everyone, so if it hurt your bloody lugs serves you right"

"I'm not lying … it didn't hurt my ears … much … only reminded me a tad of someone having their fingernails prised off with a screwdriver … but I loved every minute of it … this beautiful girl with the most glorious smile on her face was smiling at me … so what if she couldn't sing, no-one gave a flying fuck about that … certainly not me"

"You're still lying … I can tell …"

"No I'm not … all I wanted was to kiss you"

"Really?"

"Yup … best way to shut you up"

"You'll pay for that"

"I'm counting on it"

He had his hands folded behind his head and was stretched out laughing his bloody head off. He seemed to find something hilarious about me keep going over to the window and sticking my nose right up against the glass. I was just checking. And alright maybe I was being a bit like a kid, getting all excited over some snow like one of the little bleeders, and maybe it wasn't very _mature_ behaviour, but you know what, I didn't give a shit. I'd been pretending not to be me all bloody week, had been play-acting that everything in my world was fine when it bloody well wasn't, it hadn't been since his mum pulled that stroke at his dad's party. It's felt like something horrible was going to happen any minute and there's been all these things to worry about, Noel maybe conking out on me as well as other stuff and to be honest I'm tired of pretending.

Charles folded the duvet back and patted the bed next to him in what I'm sure he thought was an irresistible invitation "Come on Moll … come to bed" He did that eyebrow waggling thing "You'll get cold over there"

"Yeah … in a minute I will … 'ere … what's the odds this lot will be here in the morning? Did they say on the forecast? What I really, really want is to go out in it …"

"What now? Nope … you really, really don't … it's far too fucking cold and dark to think about building a snowman tonight" He was pulling that irritated _what the fuck _face of his, I could see from his reflection in the window "Come on ... stop pissing about Moll, come and get into bed"

I don't know whether he saw the face I pulled because I was still looking out the window, but he definitely saw when I turned round and stuck my tongue out at him. Told you I was being mature, didn't I?

"I never said _now_ did I? That was you … but I think that's a really good idea because then it's guaranteed I won't miss it … but you better get your clothes on first though … you're gonna freeze to bloody death if you go out like that … 'n by the way who said I was gonna build a snowman? I was thinking more of 'aving a snowball fight"

"Lovely … but tell me something, do I look like someone who wants to get out of bed and go out and play in the snow at this time of the night? … Even for you? No, don't answer that …" He was chewing at the corner of his lip "Anyway you wouldn't stand an earthly Dawesy, I'm a master snowballer, had years of practice"

"Yeah course you have … well you would, wouldn't you? Posh boy like you, except well, shame you're too old 'n too worried about getting a bit chilly to prove it … and I'll have _you _know that if there was an Olympic thing for lobbing snowballs I'd get the gold … bloody ace that's me"

"Oi, not so much of the old if you don't mind" He was bloody sniggering again which made me make this little promise to myself that I'd beat him if it was the last thing I ever do "Oh dear, that sounds as if you're telling me I should be worried about the competition?"

"Yeah you should … listen, I might come from east Ham where four flakes of snow are called a blizzard, where all the buses stop bleeding running … and I might never have made a snowball before either … and definitely never had a fight with one … but dunno why, I just know I'm gonna be shit hot at it"

"I'm sure you're going to be as brilliant at that as you are at everything else you do"

"Glad you noticed…"

"Of course I noticed …" He did a bit of chewing at his lip and pretended he was having a little think "It's a highly over-rated pastime you know Moll … you'll get cold, especially when it gets down your neck, and I'm not sure about rescuing you from a snowdrift at this time of night …"

"What? You reckon we gonna get enough for drifts?"

"I have no idea … all I know is that I don't want to go out and play in it right now, I'd far rather be tucked up in bed with my beautiful wife …"

"You know you're just like me Nan, don't you? She's no bloody fun either, always says it's shit and it messes with her bingo and according to her it's only good when you're warm inside and looking out"

"And I've always said your Nan is a very wise woman … she talks a great deal of sense"

"That's not what you said when she threatened to cut off your magic wizarding wand"

"My _what_?"

"You 'eard …" I did this little shrug, as if I thought he was being a bit dense but couldn't help giggling when I saw the look on his face "Don't you know anything at all? It's one of them euphemisms of yours … it's 'arry Potter innit?"

"I should have known … I'm a bit surprised at Harry though … stil… good to hear you think my wand is magic …" He smirked "And I thought Nan was going to part me from my bollocks, you didn't say anything else was in danger" He did this faked dramatic wince and put his hand under the duvet. I'm not sure he knew he'd done it, think it might have been his subconscious making him have a little check just to make sure it was all still where it should be.

"Her eyesight's not what it was these days …"

"Fuck …. And now please will you stop bloody laughing … it's not funny" I could see he was struggling not to join in and laugh with me "And don't you dare say anything like that to the lads will you?"

"Are you daring me? Cos you know, it'd do wonders for your reputation … nah don't thank me, you're welcome"

"Oh god, I can see their bloody faces now … and hear the sniggers, I'll never live it down …"

"What's it worth?"

"I'll think of something … listen" He swapped to using that wheedling tone of his, the one he knows makes it bloody hard for me to say no to anything "You don't really want to go out there now, do you? You'd much rather be tucked up in this nice warm bed with me, and I'd much rather not be making love to an icicle"

"Who said anything about making love … do you ever think about anything except sex?"

"When I look at you? Nope"

"I'm not sure how I'm s'posed to take that"

"Come to bed and we'll talk about it" He pulled back the duvet again and moved over a bit to make room for me as I gave in and got in the warm bit next to him to cuddle up, to be honest I was beginning to get a bit cold "Christ almighty, woman .. get your bloody hands off me, they're fucking freezing"

"Oh dear … are they? That's a shame … still ne'er mind … but you know, if you loved me, then you'd love to warm them up for me"

"And that Mrs James is blackmail"

"I know … good innit?"

He shook his head but still had the grin on his face as he tucked my hands under his armpits to get them warm and settled me close to him then began to slowly stroke all the little stray hairs back off my face. There was this little frown appeared between his eyes, you know the one he gets when he's really concentrating very hard on something, and you want to know something else? Lying in bed cuddled up against him and looking at him looking at me I really couldn't think for the life of me why I'd ever thought Noel was attractive. I mean, it's not that he's fugly or anything, everything's in the right places and that, and I got to admit his eyes are a lovely colour and not too close together or anything but he's still got a bleeding long way to go before he's even a patch on Charles. Especially when, like right now, there's this look in his eyes that's making them look almost black, and even a moody Charles when he's bloody sulking and brooding about something or other is still the only bloke that does it for me. When he looks at me like that my heart starts to pound like it's going to come right out of my chest.

"Kiss me?"

He stopped messing with my hair and just looked at me for a second without saying anything at all and my breath got a bit stuck in my throat as I waited. Didn't know what we were waiting for exactly, but there was this huge feeling of wanting and needing and I don't know what else before he leaned towards me very slowly and just brushed his lips over mine. It was a small whisper of a kiss. Actually not really a kiss at all, but then he very slowly ran just the tip of his tongue along my bottom lip and I was swamped with this huge great wave of desire for him. My breath caught in my throat as his face hovered so bloody close I could see all the tiny black specks on his jaw where his stubble was coming through but before I could even think of getting my hand up to stroke it, we were kissing like we couldn't get enough. Proper long hard kisses that went on and on and which got harder and harder and more and more frantic until I was in danger of dying from running out of oxygen. I had to stop and take a breath, my heart was bloody racing, and god knows what my pulse was doing as I felt his muscles bunch and he shifted himself slightly trying to make sure his whole weight wasn't on me. Not that I minded about being flattened, I wanted to feel every bit of him, but before I could say anything, he was back kissing me like we hadn't bloody kissed for years. I knew I should say something, I really wanted to but the longer the kissing went on, the more I couldn't bloody think of what to say. Or how to say it. My brain had stopped working. Our lips were still locked together as he slowly buried his fingers in my hair and then ran them gently down the sides of my ribs until they were resting on the skin of my waist, where they seemed to me to be resting for a bleeding long time. I began to wonder what he was waiting for and arched my back a bit, couldn't help it because I really wanted him to hurry up and do something, to move his hands a bit lower. But think that might just have been me being a bit previous, I didn't want to wait, did I? But he wouldn't let me rush him, took his time hooking his fingers in the hem of my tank and pulling it up but when he tried to get it over my head he got it all caught up and tangled in my hair. He wouldn't let me help him get it untangled though, he just pushed my hands away and then gently ran his fingers through my tangles. God, he really has got a lot more bleeding patience than I have, I would probably have tugged it off and risked yanking my hair out by the roots, but Charles would never do anything that risked hurting me, would he? He didn't pull my hair once getting the bloody thing off.

"That thing drives me fucking insane …"

"Thought you liked it…"

"I do like it … I didn't say I didn't … but it's always driven me mad … you have got no fucking idea what the sight of you in that thing does to me … especially when I know I can get to take it off"

I don't know where he got the idea that I didn't know, of course I did, why does he think I bloody well wear it? It would be easy for me to go and buy some proper pyjamas, wouldn't it? I could maybe even get some of those silky ones like I'm sure Amber wears, the sexy ones, but nothing will ever come close to the memory of wearing the same tank, alright the same sort of tank, when we were in the FOB. And the first time we ever touched, well, apart from when I did his bloody feet, which wasn't quite the same thing, it was the day I first knew he might very well have feelings for me exactly like the ones I had for him. And you know, even after everything, I know I love him to bits and that I've probably always loved him, ever since I first had that almighty bloody crush on him. Even when I kept telling myself I didn't, that I was well over him, that we were done, I knew I was lying to myself. And if he says that it's me that he loves and that he doesn't want anyone else then that's all that matters, right? Filling myself with doubts because of looking back over my shoulder all the time and thinking about things that's history, being jealous over stuff neither of us can change is just plain dumb, and if I can't trust him then I really do have to ask myself what the fuck I'm doing with him. I either love him and trust him and want to be with him or I don't. It's easy as that. And it's got fuck all to do with anything else that's going on in my life or what his bloody mother thinks or wants, has it?

He tells me all the time that he loves me, but I don't tell him anything like enough. I mean, I used to, all the time, at least I think I did, and I'm sure he knows how I feel, bloody hope he does anyway. But if he knew just how much I love him then he'd see there's no need to be jealous of anyone. I don't want anyone else.

But didn't want him to stop what he was doing either. Talking about all this shit could bloody well wait, we'd done a lot of talking lately and I just wanted him to keep on kissing my neck because he knows exactly where to kiss me to turn me into a puddle. I shifted my head about a bit so as to make it easier for him to nudge my hair out of the way and kiss round to my ear, he bloody knows what that does to me, but then I couldn't keep still. Couldn't help arching my back up towards his mouth as he kissed a trail from my collar bones slowly down to my tits and I had this huge need for him to carry on and kiss every bit of me. My nipple was achingly hard where he'd drawn it into the heat of his mouth and was flicking and teasing it with his tongue until I was squirming. He was watching my face as he moved his mouth to the other one and I sort of expected him to put his fingers where his mouth had been but he ran them down to my shorts instead and made short work of sliding them down my legs, admittedly with a bit of help, before he moved his fingers to where I was longing for them to be. I could feel how his heart was bloody racing and pounding as I stroked my fingers lightly down his back and then hooked them in the waist of those tight stretchy boxers of his, and slowly slid them down over his arse. I was very, very careful of his magic wizarding wand. I wanted him naked, wanted to feel his skin against mine and to be as close as I could bloody get. I wound my legs round his waist and then pressed myself against the rigid thickness of his erection, and heard his breathing get all ragged as he began to pant.

It wasn't the smoothest love making we've ever shared, it was too bloody fast and furious for that but when it was over I could still feel all these waves of syrupy pleasure and echoes of the tremors running through me. And I knew without him saying a word that he was in the same happy daze as we lay there without speaking. My head was on his shoulder with my hair all over his chest and his fingers twirling and smoothing my tangles, and I was filled with a huge feeling of happiness. I wished I could bottle it or something, could put all these feelings I was feeling into a box and save them up for when life got a bit shit, which it was going to, no question about that.

"You know, I sort of wish your mum didn't think I was a common little trollop, I wish she liked me a bit more" Not sure where that bloody came from, I wasn't supposed to care, was I? And _liked me a bit more? _What? _Try liked me even a little bit, _and what the fuck was I doing, talking about bloody Etta? But you know, just sometimes I find the thought of her hating me matters to me, just a bit "Maybe it's because she thinks I might be using her little boy for sex … maybe she thinks that's why I married you"

"_Little _boy? Lovely … one minute a magic wizarding wand and the next one it's _little_? And who says I'd be annoyed if you just used me for sex?"

"Not you Numptie … your mum" It was suddenly funny for some reason "You are quite good at it though … give you that"

"_Quite good? _… lovely … although that's better than nothing I suppose"

He was back to propping himself up on his folded arms and had this huge happy smug smirk all over his gob, he didn't need telling I was only messing and that I was really happy, because he knew.

"Listen to me Moll … my mother could not be more wrong about you or any of it if she tried, she is not living in the same world as the rest of us … just ask my dad" He still had this huge smile on his face, he seems to have forgotten just how much she pissed him off when we were there "So stop worrying about my bloody mother and what she thinks and worry about me instead"

"Worry about you … what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing … nothing at all …everything is perfect and that includes you … you know, it seems a lifetime now, but it's only a few short weeks since I believed that we were over … I thought all that was left was to arrange the divorce and that part of my life that included you was finished … and then I got here ... and I let myself in and I waited … and the second I saw you come through that door I knew that nothing had changed … that I still loved you as much as ever … I suppose that what I'm trying to say is that the minute I saw you, I knew that it doesn't matter wherever we are, if you're there with me it will always feel like home to me … home is where you are"

"Ditto"

And then without trying to work out what was the best way of telling him, of what the right words were, I just blurted it out and told him.


	24. Chapter 24

_**A/N: Thank you for all the support I've had for this story and for all the kind comments, I really appreciate every one, and for the time and trouble people have taken to leave reviews. I can't thank you enough. This is the last chapter, or as you will see it is actually the last two chapters in one, I decided to post the epilogues at the same time which has made it very long I know, but it was ready so … Enormous thanks go to Flossie for her invaluable support and for the suggestion of the name Amber for Ginger Barbie … IJ do hope you enjoy the last bit …. **_

_**Forever**_

"Well … say something will you?"

"Not sure what you want me to say … mmmm …come on Moll, open your eyes and look at me …"

"Can't … sorry … bit of a bugger all this, innit? And you don't need to tell me … before you say anything I know I should 'ave said … "

This wasn't quite the way it was supposed to happen, there were no bloody Disney blue birds twittering round my head and I wasn't looking at him all starry eyed and he wasn't staring at me all awestruck. Well, wouldn't know about that because I wasn't looking at him, didn't want to see if his expression was as bleeding horrified as mine. Hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, had been going to work out what I was going to say when he accused me of being sodding careless, which I had been, or worse if he thought I'd done it on purpose. But I hadn't even been going to think about kids till I was a lot older, at least 30 or something, still didn't mean I wasn't worried he might think I'd lied to him. Who's to say? He might even throw a hissy and walk off on me again. Well, nah, I didn't really _believe _that, I knew he wouldn't but still thought I should be prepared. You know, just in case. And fuck it, I'd been determined NOT to say _sorry_ but the word seemed to have slipped out, have you ever tried telling someone something without saying it? It's a bloody sight harder than you'd think. I'd been focussing on not sounding pathetic and girly and on not saying it was all my fault, because it bloody wasn't, it was only half mine at most. And I can't even remember what I wanted to do before I had kids, I just remember thinking I wasn't ready, but things change, and maybe I got more in common with Amber and her sodding ticking time clock these days than I thought? But whatever, all the "_if only's"_ and the "_what if's"_ in the world weren't going to help, were they?

In case I haven't told you, this is another example of how good I am at fucking things up just when they start to go really well, ask my dad if you don't believe me, but got to say that even with my special talent this is a pretty spectacular own goal. It probably wouldn't have been quite so bad if I could have told myself I didn't know it could happen, that it was a pure accident, but can't even lie to myself like that, can I? It was my fault that I'd been in such a tearing bloody rush to get off to Abu Dhabi that I'd forgotten all about my pill till I was sitting at Heathrow, and it was too bloody late then. Can't blame anyone else, although to be fair it wasn't really that big a deal at the time, was it? I hadn't had a sex life for about 100 years, well at least three years anyway, and had no bleeding intention whatsoever of having sex with anyone in the near future, and definitely not without using something.

And then things didn't quite work the way I expected. Shouldn't have come as a surprise, should it? It's always a distinct possibility when you can't keep your hands off of someone and don't use anything, I mean, I do know that. Have known since I was about 12. And we'd spent every last minute in bed together that weekend, I've got no idea how many times we did it but all that mattered at the time was that I was happier than I had been for, well, for three years. I'd been completely lost in this little bubble of wanting nothing more than to be having sex with him, alright making love to him and I know I should have said something but he should have asked and he definitely didn't. Don't think so anyway. But I'd been so lost in it and in him that I probably wouldn't have been able to stop even if I had thought it through. Wouldn't have wanted to. And those Tigger moments hadn't exactly been encouraging him to stop either, had they? I'd missed it, had missed the way he makes me feel, missed all of it, all those feelings I thought had gone forever. Just not quite so bloody _gung-ho_ about it all now though, am I?

I didn't know how I was going to manage if it did all go to shit, you know, with work 'n that, because they're not going to let me fly, are they? And what about afterwards? I really didn't want to have to go home to listen to my dad giving me the benefit of his considered opinion. Alright, maybe I do know Charles would never let that happen, he would never walk away and leave me to get on with it, he simply wouldn't do that. But that didn't stop me scaring myself half to bloody death at the thought of ending up having to live in some scuzzy tower block with no lift and no money, was panicking and imagining myself as some poor little orphan Annie off one of them Sunday afternoon things on the tele. What with that and shitting myself whether bloody Noel was going to conk out on me, it hadn't exactly been my best week ever, had it?

"Molly … look at me … please, I want you to look at me"

I had to open my eyes and look at him, didn't I? I mean didn't particularly want to but knew he wasn't going to shut up asking and wasn't going to say anything till I did and I couldn't keep on acting like a little kid. There was a bit of me wished I'd looked at him straight off because then I'd have seen the look on his face before he got a chance to hide behind that _Captain_ mask of his, before he could pin a look on his face that said it was like hearing he'd won the fucking lottery. I couldn't help wondering what the fuck he found to smile at, if it was a real smile and not just something he was putting on for my benefit, you know, Charles doing his thing of trying to make me feel better? Mind you, if that's what he was doing, he might be going to have his work cut out a bit.

"Come on Moll … listen … I know you're probably right and that you should have told me, but I should have asked and I didn't … and anyway, we both know that even if I had known, it wouldn't have made a scrap of bloody difference … and … well, this is without doubt the best Christmas present you could ever have given me"

"What?"

"There's nothing that would make me happier … alright, maybe it is a bit soon and I'm not altogether sure it's what you want …"

"_A bit soon?_ Course it bloody is … 'n nah, hadn't bargained on it but … s'pose it's bit late now to start worrying whether it's what I want … I dunno what I want"

"Indeed " He was bloody smirking "You know, until that day, things for me had gone back to how they used to be … once again I'd get up every morning hoping to see you, to have the chance to spend time with you and with a bit of luck talk to you … and you'd make me laugh like no-one else can, but … I thought … no I really believed I'd lost you … I thought we were actually going through with getting a divorce … and then, there you were … we were in bed together, both of us naked and holding one another … and I know you think I'm bloody Superman …" He actually started laughing, although I'm not sure what was funny.

"I do not"

"Yes, you do … but believe me, I don't have the kind of superhuman self-control you think I have where you're concerned … and right now I couldn't be happier … I look at you and see the girl I'll always want to come home to … you're my family Moll ... you're all I want"

"You're not just saying it?"

"Of course not … why do you sound as if you don't believe me?"

"I dunno … maybe I know what you're like, you've always been bloody good at knowing what the right thing is to say … and …"

"And nothing … and I haven't, far from it … but I have never lied to you, not once and I'm not going to start now, I mean it … mind you I'm not sure how the fuck you're ever going to top this as a Christmas present" I could see the grin on his face and suddenly had to grin back, not only because his smile is bloody catching, but because even though I knew I was being a bit of drama queen, I still couldn't help being almighty bloody relieved.

"Not gonna try … and it's not bloody Christmas yet"

"Feels like it"

I didn't want to spoil it by going on about how worried I was about my job and how I hadn't been working there anything like long enough to qualify for anything and about what might be going to happen when they wouldn't let me fly. Money for one thing. We, or rather he, had got all these bloody expenses, and even without spending a fucking fortune on Abu Dhabi, things were probably going to be dead tight. But nothing he could do about any of that was there?

"_Forever …. is composed of … now's_"

"What?"

"It's a poem"

"Oh … yeah … is it Dylan Thomas?"

"Nope …" He shook his head "Emily Dickinson, and it's a bit of a favourite of mine …"

"Oh …" I couldn't think of anything to say, I mean wasn't going to say I'd never bloody heard of her, was I? Or that I didn't understand what it meant, instead I made a mental note to Google it when I got the chance.

"You know your mum's gonna freak, don't you?"

"Oh yep" He shouted a laugh and then rolled over so that his head was on the pillow facing me and put his hand over to smooth my bird's nest back from my face with his thumb, or rather tried to "I love you so much Mrs James ... looking at you now it's so fucking hard to believe how _quickly_ life can change"

"For the better I 'ope … and I know you do … love me I mean … well, you'd better had …" I was going to say 'ditto' but then remembered how I thought I didn't say the words enough, I don't know why I find saying them a bit embarrassing, I just do "Love you 'n all"

"I know you do" He sounded dead happy and was smirking all over his face as he gave this little laugh "And nothing could possibly be any better than this … now, is there anything else you want to say to me or have you finished talking?"

"Why?"

"Because I badly want to kiss you, and I don't want you to think I'm trying to shut you up"

"And are you?"

"Trying to shut you up? Of course"

"You really 'ad better not be" He picked up my hand and laced his fingers with mine before slowly kissing across my knuckles one by one looking at me the whole time. Then leaned over and started dropping little kisses all round my mouth, before shuffling me across the bed a bit until he was lying on top of me. He began to nibble gently on my bottom lip "Hey … is that you bloody showing off I can feel?"

"Might be …"

-OG-

"Take it easy …. Just be a bit careful, will you?"

"I am … 'n stop being an old woman"

"I'm not … but listen Dawsey, just so there's no mistake …" He shook his head "You might have to get used to it, I'm going to take care of you whether you bloody like it or not, it's my job to keep you safe"

"Is it? How you gonna do that?"

"No idea … but I'm going to keep you … alright both of you … safe if it fucking kills me, and at this rate it probably will … now stop arguing and come here …"

"I'm not arguing … 'n show me your hands first … not sure I trust you"

"That's cruel … and uncalled for"

"Nah it's not"

He was laughing all over his face and walking slowly backwards away from me, as he stuck both hands out in front of him and made a big deal of opening his fingers, to demonstrate he hadn't got a snowball ready to mush on me. But that didn't mean he couldn't scoop up another great big handful and chuck it at me when I got close. He was right, snow is bleeding cold when it gets down your neck. It had been coming down for most of the night by looks of it, it was really deep and everything was all quiet, like the snow was muffling any noise from the traffic, and even though it was just the odd flake fluttering down, it looked like it was going to start again any minute. The sky was this funny greyish yellow which Charles said meant we were going to get a whole load more which I thought was bloody brilliant, and the whole thing was nearly as good as I thought it was going to be. I'd been having a great time, although got to say it was a lot harder than I expected to make a handful of snow stick in a lump to use as a weapon to chuck at him. It stuck to my gloves in little icy clumps which kept falling apart and then melting so by the time I was ready to lob it at him there was nothing left to throw. He was finding it dead funny for some annoying bloody reason and I was buggered if I was going to give him the satisfaction of asking how it's done. And there was this icy cold wind stinging my face and giving me a full-on snot attack and hadn't got a tissue, so it was either having a bloody good sniff or wiping it on my glove, alright both. And have to say my feet were so fucking cold I couldn't swear my toes hadn't actually fallen off, not that I was going to admit that to him either, because I'd turned down his offer of extra socks, but there was no way he was going to win even if I had to stay out till I bloody froze to death. And okay I might be stubborn, but I wasn't going to tell him how hard it was to walk without slipping, I think I had the wrong boots, especially when I had to dodge the bleeding snowballs he was lobbing at me. But if I told him how cream crackered I was, it would give him another excuse to bloody well fuss.

"Had enough yet?" In spite of my suspicions he hadn't actually had anything in his hands, even though he put one behind his back and kept moving it out of my reach, teasing and trying to make it seem like he had. He was laughing his head off at me doing my best to get hold of his arm.

"Nah … why would I?"

"Come on, let's go in and drink hot chocolate in front of the fire … I'll give your cold feet a rub"

"How do you know me feet are cold? Might not be"

"Because mine are fucking freezing"

"Oh … well in that case … I s'pose we better had if you're finding it a bit taters out here, I mean it's probably a lot 'arder when you start getting on a bit …"

"Lovely … that's what you get for trying to be nice … You know Dawsey, that's something I've always loved about you… so fucking gracious"

"I know"

-OG-

Christmas was nearly how I'd expected. Although he was right and the snow had long gone so we were having a wet Christmas not a white one, but didn't matter. Not that much. When I was little, alright a bit younger, I used to have all these pictures in my head of what Christmas looks like when everything is all done up and covered in tinsel. Like in the adverts on tele or in magazines. Where there's fairy lights all round and lots of exciting looking parcels all wrapped up lovely waiting under a real tree, not plastic ones like the one Nan liberated from the pound shop. Well, think it was plastic but it might have been some sort of paper, but it was a shit bright green like no tree you've ever seen. Mum always said real ones were for other people, that she had enough to do without clearing up the bleeding mess but think that might have just been an excuse because she couldn't afford one. Poor mum.

Charles and me went to the Garden Centre for ours, and okay by the time we had it put up you could see it was a tiny bit lopsided, there were more branches one side than the other, and it was a bit on the big side so he'd had to cut the top off to get it in. But I thought it was lovely, it smelled well nice and actually most of the needles were still on it at Christmas. I might just possibly have got a little bit carried away, you know, gone slightly over the top on the decorating front but you can't have too many, can you? Well known fact. We did have a tiny bit of a domestic when he came in and saw it, I hadn't been able to make myself wait for us to do it together and the bugger had laughed and asked whether the tinsel fairy had thrown up on it. He then had to do some serious grovelling when I got a bit upset. Although actually, I knew he might have a point, but I was a bit all over the shop and I let rip, then got dead offended when he got all bleeding _tolerant _and kept muttering about hormones. I'd wanted to gouge his bloody eyes out with a rusty spoon, had screamed at him and accused him of believing everything he's read on the sodding internet, that he thought it made him an expert on being pregnant. Told him he was stupid if he couldn't see it was more about me not being allowed to have a proper drink.

Anything and everything with chocolate, even my top favourite things like Coco-Pops all smelled like they'd gone off and tasted like it 'n all, which put me off eating any of it and Christmas is all about pigging out on Quality Street, isn't it? Course it might be it'll turn out to be a good thing if it keeps on like this after, I'll be all slim again without any help from the likes of Popeye. Every cloud 'n that? I suppose I should be grateful not to be actually puking, I just felt dog tired all the bloody time, and a little bit shit as well as needing to wee every 15 seconds, but it could have been a lot worse.

We did Christmas dinner together and alright the turkey might have been slightly on the over-cooked side, I'd perhaps read too many warnings about how under-cooking made it sodding lethal and couldn't make up my mind whether it was still a bit pink. I'd wanted to blow torch it as well but he wouldn't let me, and the vegetables might have been a tad al dente, alright downright bloody raw, but the roast potatoes were spot on. But, as he kept reminding me, they were Aunt Bessies. Still doing it together made it okay, even the washing up, although he insisted we leave the pans 'soaking' and that he'd do them later which was bloody fine by me. Afterwards we lay on the sofa with my head in his lap as it got dark outside and I listened to him talking about Christmas's where he'd been deployed and from when he was a kid, he didn't mention the couple he'd spent at home when Sam was little, and can't help thinking that's a bit sad, although it might have been him being tactful and I might just possibly have dozed off a little bit once or twice. Not that I was bored with listening, I love listening to him talk, could listen all day, especially like then when I was happy and warm and comfortable and it was dead cosy with just the lights of the tree and the rain lashing down outside.

The only thing that was a bit of a worry was that I still hadn't told a soul, not Claire, not work and not my mum or Nan or any of them. Kept saying I knew it was too soon until Charles laughed and said people would notice on their own before I got round to it, which I actually think is a great idea. Then I wouldn't have to tell anyone anything. I don't think Charles is looking forward to telling Etta and Ted either, although he says he can't wait, and the same goes for telling the lads and everyone else that knows us, but think he's just saying that. We've agreed it's probably best not to say a dicky bird to Sam at New Year, it really is a bit soon and if we tell him then the whole lot of them will know just as soon as he gets home. You can't expect a kid his age to keep his mouth shut, can you?

-OG-

Telling people wasn't as shit as I expected, alright it definitely wasn't great with some of them, but it did make me feel a bit excited about it all as well. Made it seem real somehow. I told Claire first, used her as a sort of test run, which probably wasn't my best idea ever because instead of being happy for me or forcing herself to pretend she was, she couldn't hide that she was bloody appalled I was even thinking of going through with it. She kept trying to tell me that no matter how good the reunion, getting a bit carried away with being pleased to see someone didn't mean you had to live with the consequences of the reunion shag. It was all a bit hurtful because I thought she was my mate, but seems we don't have that much in common anymore, so haven't seen a lot of her since then.

Even though I'd been flapping my hand about and flashing my rings right left and centre, a bit like Amber with her bleeding trashy _engagement _ring, work quite simply didn't believe me when I said I was married. I mean, they believed I was pregnant, but not that I had a husband to go with the baby. Well, no-one actually came right out and called me a liar, not in so many words, but Kelli with a fucking 'i' kept pulling this '_oh yeah_' face and raising her eyebrows and then rolling her eyes when she thought I wasn't watching. In the end I got tired of keep telling them and trying to get them to believe me and got Charles to come and meet me one afternoon which shut them all up I can tell you. Lots of eyes out on stalks when he came in and smiled that smile of his at them and then kissed my cheek, and after that every bugger wanted to know where he'd popped out from and had he got any brothers or even any mates.

I'm sure she meant well, but Kelli was a bloody great pain in the arse Diet Nazi. Not that I asked for her help, in fact I wanted to batter her every time she opened her trap and started lecturing me, but she made such a fucking fuss that it felt easier to sneak round and eat my Sour cream Pringles when she wasn't watching. She kept telling me they were so fucking bad for me they were almost poison, but the more she said it the more I craved them which I don't think was quite what she had in mind. Still, I suppose it was just lucky I'd gone off chocolate or she'd have been having a sodding field day.

I hadn't decided on the best way to tell my lot, although I wasn't ashamed of it or anything, it just felt awkward somehow. I had thought of telling Bella first because not in a million years would she be able to keep her trap shut, and would do the telling for me. But Bella might be my sister and I might love her to bits but got to say she isn't the most sensitive person in the world, you know, if you told her you were feeling a bit low she'd agree you should jump off of a fucking cliff or chuck yourself under a bus if that was easier and I wasn't sure I was ready for her considered opinion any more than I was for my dad's. In the end I didn't have to say anything to anyone. Nan took one look at me and guessed straight off, I'd bloody forgotten how she's always reckoned she's got this special 6th sense tells her when someone's fallen, that she always knows just by looking at their eyes, which I think is obviously total bollocks. But couldn't tell her she was wrong, could I? I just think it was more likely she guessed because of me keep putting my hand on my non-existent bump and looking shifty, but she was wrong what she said about me lying when I denied it on the phone before Ted's party. I didn't lie, I just didn't know then, did I? Was getting a bit concerned maybe, but I didn't know. Mum reckoned she was pleased for us, not sure whether she meant it or not, but that's what she said, but it was Nan launched into saying stuff that made me feel dead awkward. I really hadn't wanted Charles to come with me, but he'd bloody well insisted so I suppose it was his own fault that Nan gave him a bit of a hard time. No surprises there then. But he's the bloody nuts at staying all calm and not showing any hurt feelings when it suits him, I suppose as a Rupert he's had a lot of practice, anyway, he stayed dead polite to her no matter how hard she tried to rattle his cage. She accused him of doing it on purpose trying to make sure I didn't come to my senses and kick him to the kerb. Bloody hell, it seemed like I was shouting "NAN! For fuck sake" every few seconds, but didn't matter what I said to try and shut her up, she just carried on. And then she started saying that as family they deserved to know if he'd left me for someone else last time round, and then narrowed her eyes all menacing and asked him what was to stop him doing it again. Fuck. It was a bloody good job she didn't know about Amber or his time doing his _community service_, wasn't it? She'd have frogmarched him down the clap clinic before he knew what was happening. I mean, I know she loves me, she loves all of us, well, except for dad of course, and because of that she means well but there are times when she can be a dead embarrassment. And you know what? It's actually none of her business is it? Eventually of course, she gave up and I could feel the relief in him where he had hold of my hand in a death grip, although he didn't say anything, and we all know that underneath all that hard as nails stuff, she's got this really soft spot for him. She used to say I was lucky she wasn't thirty years younger or she'd give me a run for my money, although she hasn't said that recently, but actually I think she was nearly as hurt when he left as I was.

_**Epilogue '1'**_

Charlie Edward James was born exactly on the right date, which hadn't been hard to work out, had it? Apparently first boys in the family are always called Charlie, or Charles, it's a tradition. _First boy_? Nah, try _only boy_. Except for Sam of course, but Rebecca had dug her heels in and refused to call him Charles, so he was Samuel Charles instead. Being pregnant through one of the hottest summers anyone could remember had shown what piss poor timing we'd had, not that we'd actually planned anything that I remember, just got a bit caught out. By the time he was born I'd really had it with feeling like a sweaty lump who couldn't even see her own bloody feet. Which was probably just as well, they were horribly swollen. And I was pissed off with only wearing dungarees that made me look like a cross between Bob the Builder and a bloody Weeble, but they were the loosest things I'd got and I was buggered if I was going to go and buy new when it wouldn't be long before I'd be back in my own clobber. Why anyone would do the baby thing more than once was bloody beyond me.

"Push … go on push … PUSH … come on … count to 10 with me … 1…2 …"

What the fuck did they think I was doing? There seemed to be dozens of people I didn't know all looking at bits of me I usually keep private and all yelling at me as if they don't think I was trying. The yeller-in-chief was my bloody husband who I knew meant really well and who loves me to bits, but I did just wish he would shut the fuck up. And never mind anything else, what the fuck did he think I was doing? Trying to keep it in there forever? But it bloody hurt. If anyone ever tells you it doesn't then they're fucking lying and I'd tried to be clever so I'd got there far too late to have the epidural, everyone had said to hang on for as long as I could before I went to hospital because of first babies taking bleeding hours so there'd be a lot of hanging about and being bored. Trust me to be the exception.

And then there he was, out, one last bit of agony and one last bloody great heave and this slippery little baby with loads of dark curly hair stuck to his head, was there and screaming blue bloody murder. Only had to look at the expression on his daddy's face to know he was the most gorgeous baby anyone has ever seen.

_**Epilogue '2'**_

Today is the 23rd November, our first anniversary of being back together and it's also our moving day. We're all packed up and ready to go just as soon as the van gets here, we've got all our two ton of plastic baby tat in boxes and it's not even 9.00 yet. Tell you what though, I'm bleeding knackered. And just for once I can't blame Charlie because he actually slept for more than an hour at a time last night which was a bit of a breakthrough in itself. But now instead of being able to lie back and relax and take my time about getting up out of bed and having a cuppa before Charlie starts wanting feeding, I've been up for bleeding hours. You know, all those years of feeling like the living dead from having to get up at the crack of dawn on exercise, or doing a 10k run, or being in some shit-hole of a FOB where it was almost bloody impossible to sleep because of being scared there might be spiders, I can tell you now that I hadn't got a scoobie what being tired actually was. And as for being a bit tired from a hangover after a night out on the piss, you can forget that and all. Just try having a baby that doesn't know his days from his nights. It's been so long since I went out for a drink I can't remember what it was like to get dressed up to go out, never mind about the drinking bit. Not that I can do that, not unless I want to feed my child pure booze which might help him sleep but isn't exactly going to win me any prizes as mother of the year is it? As things stand, if I sit down in the evening, five minutes and I'm out for the count. Charles keeps saying it will all be better once we're settled, but I don't know whether that's our sex life he's talking about, I mean, I can hear him now saying "What bloody sex life?"

Charles not only had to pass the third-degree grilling from Nan but he also had to tell Etta and Ted, and I got to admit I was a bloody coward and refused to go to Bath with him. Yeah, I know he came with me but that was his decision, I did try to warn him, did try to talk him out of it, but he insisted like I insisted my decision of claiming pregnant woman's privilege of avoiding unnecessary stress was final. Not sure he believed me exactly, and okay it was a bit of an excuse, but it also meant I missed Etta having what Charles called her epiphany. Apparently soon as she found out her precious son had got me pregnant, she had this massive acute attack of amnesia and totally bleeding forgot all the stuff she'd ever said about me. I morphed into the best daughter-in-law on the bleeding planet which Charles thought was fucking hilarious. Well he would. I must admit I did let her get away with it because well, I simply couldn't be arsed to keep the feud going. It really takes it out of you always having to come out on top, and I love Ted to bits so thought I'd be a bit grown up about it. I hope you're impressed. Look, I'm not going to lie and say I love her exactly, but she's okay these days, well, not too bad and she loves Charlie to distraction as well as his dad and I suppose his granddad, although can't say I've ever really noticed that. Best of all I think she'd deny even remembering Amber if I asked. Or she'd pretend she'd forgotten which is the next best thing.

It took a fair bit of persuading to get me to agree to shift to Royal Crescent, almost had to be bribed, well I did have to be so that in the end had got him to promise that we'd have a party and even though he did the eyebrow thing, that we'd invite the lads and Jacs. He kept saying he'd keep his fingers crossed the house would survive. Look, I know the house is well nice, you don't have to tell me, I got eyes, and I know it's his home but can't help it, it's not mine, is it? And I'm worried it will take a bit of time for it to feel like home to me, still I know it's the sensible thing for us as far as money is concerned. The flat is not only a bit small with all the baby clutter all over so we'd probably have to move before long anyway, but selling it has really helped with me not earning at the moment. Still not sure that all the furniture and the expensive bits of stuff, you know the china knick knacks that are all over everywhere are exactly little boy friendly, I know it's not a problem now, but what about later on? Charles just keeps telling me I really don't have to worry, that the place is bloody cluttered up so anything he breaks will be an improvement. Not sure Etta would agree. But I've told him in words of one syllable so there can't be any mistake, I am NOT doing the cleaning. I am not swapping my 2 bed, 2 bath flat for all them bloody rooms and bathrooms and a kitchen the size of a fucking football pitch, and all the posh bits of the house full of silver bits and bobs that need cleaning and ornaments that need dusting. And then there are those sodding stairs. Nope. No way. Not this girl. He'd thrown his head back and laughed and then said his mum has a lady that does and that she had been doing for years, poor cow has all my sympathy, and that nothing will change, she'll carry on just like she always has. Tell you something, he's right, it bloody well won't change and if anyone thinks anything different, I got news for them.

-OG-

It wasn't as bad as I'd been imagining, although I still wasn't sure it was the right thing, was I? But it was done now so time to put my big girl pants on and make the best of it, well mainly because it was too late now to do anything else. The actual moving hadn't been quite as shit as I thought it was going to be, maybe with four of us shifting stuff and the men off the van as well, alright with me mainly looking after Charlie and keeping out the way, it hadn't been that bad. I was still absolutely bloody dead tired and almost ready to hit my pit and it wasn't even 8.00. Maybe Charles has got a point and it will be a bit easier with Etta to help, although not even sure about that.

He's standing in that kitchen that's big enough to fit Nan's whole flat in and probably mum's as well, and is rinsing off the plates to get them ready to put in the dishwasher. I've got a nasty little niggling suspicion that they're her best china ones and not dishwasher proof, still he must know, they're his mum's plates not mine. He's got his back to me and is swinging his hips in time to the music he's listening to through his ear buds and is singing along happily. And you know watching him moving himself and singing when he doesn't even know I'm there I can see he's happy, and that he's still got the best bum in the world. He's still as slim as he always was with these really long legs and wide shoulders, and alright he doesn't do quite as many 10k runs as he did once upon a time, but he's still bloody fit looking. Has still got all the muscles I lusted after when I first used to watch him, nothing has changed. I still fancy the bloody pants off him.

"When I wake up, well I know I'm gonna be,  
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you  
When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be  
I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you 

But I would walk 500 miles  
And I would walk 500 more  
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles  
To fall down at your door … "

"Shit … Christ you made me bloody jump … I didn't hear you come in."

I didn't mean to make him jump but had gone up behind him and put my arms round his waist which had made him jump out his bloody skin.

"Sorry … but you wouldn't hear would you … not with them things in your ears? But don't stop singing it was … nice"

He turned round to face me and made sure my arms were still round his waist before he smiled.

"You okay? Has he gone down … gone off to sleep?"

"Yeah … think he's probably bleeding knackered with all the passing backwards and forwards been going on"

"Well … tell them to stop if you don't want them to …"

"Nah you're alright … the novelty'll wear off soon … bloody 'ope anyway… your mum's stopped up there now watching him kip" I had a little giggle "Just hope she doesn't prod him to make sure he's still breathing … or to see if he fancies a bit of a cuddle"

"Fuck she'd better not … if she does then she can damn well spend the night trying to get him off again … do you want me to go and tell her ….?" He pretended to have a little think and then bit his lip "Actually on second thoughts, now I come to think of it, that's not a bad idea …"

"He won't be too happy with her tits though, will he?"

"No, I suppose there is that …"

He was laughing but I had to say it, had to ask, even though I don't know why exactly, he's already told me tons of times but I still can't help worrying a little bit.

"We are gonna be alright, aren't we?"

"Yup … of course we are …" He stopped laughing and rested his forehead on mine "I am never going to let anything bad happen to you … so, if you hate it, if anything at all upsets you, all you have to do is say the word … okay?"

"Okay"

"Now, how about … you and I take advantage of the babysitting and have an early night? Celebrate our anniversary… "

"Tell me something … do you ever think about anything 'cept sex?"

"Who said anything about sex? But now you come to mention it …"


End file.
